Thanksgiving and Then to Germany
Thursday, November 28
Today is the day for giving thanks. We had a service in a Catholic church without an altar, images, or benches. We had a protestant service followed by a friendly oration by a French priest. Most of our regimental officers as well as many of their French counterparts attended.
I received many letters and answered some of them.
The building housing the YMCA had been a German tavern with many paintings on its walls. They show how the French women behaved with the Teutonic soldiers after their occupation. One of the paintings shows German officers forcing the French barmaids to dance with them. They look like they complied reluctantly while the German soldiers respond with roaring laughter. The painting shows that the Germans have conquered everything with their big guns, except for the heart of the French women. In another image, a German officer with boots and military stripes demands a kiss while the maid resists with apparent loathing. The murals lack classic aesthetic beauty but they reveal obvious truths that we recognize as natural experiences in everyday life.
We signed the pay list and received small delicious breads at the YMCA that we have put away for our next march, which will come soon enough.
Friday, November 29
We heard rumors of entering Germany. We started to pack our typewriters and some other materials we used.
We received official notification that our pilgrimage will start tomorrow, but that we will not be conducting a forced march with loaded weapons, although we will shoulder arms.
Gómez and I volunteered to serve supper. This gave us the opportunity to fill our food containers today since we will not be able to do it tomorrow. The march will probably be exhausting. They all seem like this after a few days of rest.
Saturday, November 30
We began the day by preparing for the march. History will record the memorable march we began early in the morning. We soon passed by Le Petit Vicey, Rep. sur Reveo. The town has been in ruins since the start of the war. The Germans used to sweep over everything. They left many artillery pieces at Longuyon. It was interesting to see how Germans painted or camouflaged the cannon to avoid the detection of our observers and airplanes. The piled-up cannon could easily exceed one thousand. They represent all calibers and makes. The large numbers of monsters with lazy yawning mouths make hairs stand on end. The Germans will no longer use them. They might become curiosity pieces in their museums. The cannon stirred so many different thoughts in me that I was unable to write. I have decided that whoever reads this should imagine the rest . . .
We marched past Arrancy and Ramemcourt, Fme. Le Fleaure. I had a grueling night after dragging what I felt was a dislocated leg. It was my most painful march ever. The ground was very wet and sticky and, with the weight of my load, I suffered a sprain that worsened as the temperature got colder. I continued marching because we were accustomed to continuing until the end. I had to raise myself up with my hands every time we moved. At any rate, I had enough strength to reach our objective. We made our beds on platforms the sappers and engineers built for us.
I sought medical care after supper. The doctor gave me the usual response, “I cannot attend to you because your name is not on the list I received this morning. Give it to the sergeant who takes up the names in the mornings.” I answered to myself, “You expect me to wait until tomorrow, thank you very much!” I kept quiet because we are not allowed to speak to an officer this way, especially now that the war has ended and everyone wants to reclaim authority instead of his responsibilities.
I hobbled and grumbled until I reached a big German equipment warehouse. I found thousands of new helmets and took a small one that would not weigh me down. I then went to my sleeping area.
The sergeant approached me very early while calling on the sick and anyone else who was unable to join the march. I thanked him and felt the holy rage of the poor soldier. Our officer may have been too tired to show up yesterday. We were not supposed to be tired as we carried the load they would never understand.
I treated myself as best I could last night and it seems to have worked because I am ready to continue.
We passed by the little town of Pierrepont and then Tunelet. Our march took us by beautiful hilly areas and over decent roads that were not paved but had good gravel. I saw an empty Ford truck overturn as it moved toward us. The driver was careless as he drove down a sharp and dangerous curve on the road. Some trucks were following him while others were fully loaded and coming in our direction. Luckily, no one died. Several buddies helped him set the truck upright and he continued on his way. The trucks are continuously coming and going. They are hauling our provisions to the areas where we will be sleeping. They now have an easier job of supplying our needs. We are no longer facing danger and the trucks can now travel ahead of us. We hear the vehicles moving day and night. Poor drivers, we are told they suffer a great deal, that they do not sleep or rest much. I tell them they should not covet our difficult life and that they should resign themselves to theirs and continue.
We passed by more munitions sites. One of them drew our attention. It had large boxes of tank-piercing shells. These were the first guns we had taken during our previous fighting at this place. The Germans had found the right weapon to fight the once-invincible steel turtle.
As we approached Thil, we saw airplane-landing platforms that were in good condition, as well as an ancient aqueduct that was still in use. The aqueduct supplies Thil with water. I regret not gathering any historical information on this ancient structure. Thil was the first French town the Germans took in this region. I would have liked to learn something about French resistance and the spirit with which they attacked the Germans, who thought they were on their way to conquering the world. We can still see the obvious marks of war in the plaza.
Our band tried to lift our spirits, but could not brighten faces, not even among the musicians. We slept in a very cold house and I shivered terribly. An unbearable sense of frustration came over me and made my night very difficult.
We left Thil early. It was the last French town before entering the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. We reached Esch first. Since the town had not suffered losses of any kind, it was the first one we saw whose residents were pursuing life like before the war and without having to deal with the destruction associated with the conflict. We saw several factories functioning like in peacetime, and the townspeople seemed content, although we sensed indifference toward us. The inhabitants were focused on their tasks. Actually, they were giving us their backs. Neatly dressed police officers patrolled the streets. The bad reception they gave us was not surprising since we knew that they were great sympathizers of the German Kaiser who used the Grand Duchy as his base of operations. The excuse we heard was that their country is so small they could never have stopped the Kaiser’s advance. This is true and worthy of consideration, just like it is also true that no one ever heard the faintest protest from them. It makes more sense to believe they always wished for a victory by the Teutonic Kaiser.
We went through another town named Dujaden and rested by a fountain on the town’s only street. Several of us went looking for water. The troops were already beginning to move when we returned. This brought me a reprimand from Lieutenant George.
The rain continues as we march through muddy roads. We reached Dudelange, a beautiful town that never knew the misery of war. Several of us made our beds in a building that had served as a theater or movie house. We decided to tour the town in spite of our fatigue. We found a number of places where liquor was sold. My buddies decided to enjoy themselves in one of them by dancing with the French-Dutch women. I visited a very interesting part of the town and found a beautiful school building that was well lighted and full of soldiers who were to ready to go to sleep. This is the most impressive building. It comes closest to looking like our schools. The town is located on a scenic hill that allowed us to enjoy the panoramic view of the town. The school and the church with its tall twin towers stand out among the town’s buildings. The beautiful dark color of its forest and its nearby sown fields present a lovely backdrop to its white homes. A modern castle also stands out. A three-story house with a drugstore on its first level was on the corner of a street named Hutten. I bought stamps and other souvenirs before going to sleep. My sleeping quarters were very noisy and had the bad smell of cigarette smoke. It was impossible to sleep.
Today, I found out that we were heading for Koblenz, a lovely city by the Rhine. We passed by Hellange, another town of little importance, but picturesque. These towns show that the region enjoys the full measure of peace. We see the carts on the streets, flocks of chickens and ducks, and small herds of sheep—all reflecting the rustic life of the peasants as they head to work to prop up the plutocrats. The last town we reached was Frisange. This is where we were to spend the night. We had found a place to rest when I received orders to report to the Intelligence Office.
I had to leave my friends Gómez and Barrera to join up with my office mates. They had already taken over a dairy shed. The cattle spend the entire winter here and we have joined them for the night. We made our beds where they feed. The serenity, the small number of people, the difference in appearance, everything is a striking contrast to the place where we slept last night. Frisange is rustic and sad.
Wednesday, December 4
We headed for Aspelt and then continued on our way until we reached Remich, a beautiful town on the Moselle. It is surrounded by vineyards, the principal source of livelihood for the towns on the river. German territory extended to the right side of the river until November 11. A beautiful and sturdy bridge joins the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg with Germany. The river is very wide here and its blue waters flow swiftly.
We have heard so many stories about how our soldiers have been received in the German towns that we do not know what to say. Some tell of a German woman who fired a machine gun at a column of our soldiers as they were entering a small town. We cannot put much stock on all of this since everyone knows that Germany surrendered unconditionally. This shows that they could not handle our offensive. We have already seen how they gave up their arms on the battlefield. How can anyone be so naive as to think they have not lost? Rumors are that we will receive ammunition this afternoon so that we do not enter these towns with folded arms. German war barons obviously continue to show their stubborn pride. There is nothing better than brute force—ammunition and machine guns—against such pride.
The YMCA is joining us as we move forward and has already put up its stalls. The soldiers have formed a long waiting line to buy something even if it is only gum. I continue walking the narrow flint stone streets, visiting several establishments, and witnessing a great deal of business activity. The locals speak more German than French, but we are told the native language is Luxembourgish. I never thought that such a language existed. I think it is a mixture of German and French. I understood the language better at the place where we slept last night. They used the two languages or a mixture of both. Of course, French is mostly used along the front in France.
People use a circular brass coin with a hole in the middle for their everyday transactions. I have collected some as mementos. The French coin is also in circulation.
Although I cannot be sure, I have heard that Pablo Pérez was sent to the hospital. I hope that it is not serious. We noticed that he lost most of his voice after being gassed.
The night has been dark and rainy. I would have liked to continue with my walk but I am tired and the weather is bad. Several of us bedded down on the second floor of a building that serves as a lumber mill. It is located on a street by the left side of the river, on the northern outskirts of town. Others slept on the first floor, next to the machinery. I tried to read and write before going to bed but I was too sleepy and all my impressions from that day faded away.
Thursday, December 5
As soon as I woke up, I sat down on the bed and looked toward Germany. What an odd feeling! It seemed a mirage or something out of a dream! I could see a small town and people moving slowly as though in mourning. Even the fog adds to the sadness as it rises from the river and engulfs the area! A diminutive train whistles its arrival at a small station and quickly departs as if nothing in the way of commercial or social activity was left on the other side, in the defeated nation. Germany, Germany, what had you dreamed?
I got up to eat breakfast and found out we would not march. I do not know what to do with my spare time, nor have I found a newspaper with news from around the globe.
The end of the year approaches, and with its passing many of our families will stop worrying. Our loved ones will soon hear the news that we are well and will look forward to seeing us.
Fidel Gleim had a good idea for fighting the day’s monotony. He ordered several dishes at a restaurant and invited some of us to join him. Valente de la Rosa, Amado Cásares, and I were his guests. The idea was to enjoy each other’s company. My friends smoked, drank, and ate. I ate and joined them in recalling memories of our distant homes. The food was the best that is available in these parts after the war. We said our good-byes and went our separate ways, very grateful to our buddy Gleim and happy to have been among friends. We talked about many things, but one favorite topic came up several times—once in America, we have the responsibility to continue nurturing the friendships that duty and hard times have taught us. All of us agree that this is necessary, to form some kind of organization with veterans at its center, an organization to continue addressing our social problems in Texas.
We were together until the afternoon and barely had time to grab our rifles and join formation. After the presentation of the colors, the band played for a while in front of our commander. A few of our buddies managed to slip away and visit the city of Luxembourg. I missed out on a lot by not catching up with my daring friends. They enjoyed themselves with the same abandon they showed on the battlefields.
We received orders during supper that we would cross the Moselle and enter Germany. We are eager for the new day so that we can form our columns as an army of occupation. When night fell, I washed my hair, towels, and handkerchiefs in the Moselle. I wanted to have something to talk about later, and would have bathed but no one wanted to join me. I lost my opportunity to dive into the blue and cold waters of the Moselle.
I bought some stamps on the plaza. One of them carries the images of princesses Antonia, Sophy, Charlotte, Elisabeth, and Hilda, all of them alongside the current Grand Duchess of Luxembourg, Mary Adelaide.
My favorite places at Remich were the road by the station and Moselle Avenue, which runs by the river.
Friday, December 6
The preparations for the march had begun by dawn. We were eager to enter the territory we had taken from the enemy at great cost. After breakfast, we made formation with all of our equipment as we prepared for the march in the rain. The troops began to gather close to the bridge we were about to cross. The band reached the bridge first. The colonel and the rest of the officers crossed according to their rank, and the battalions followed. The sight was amazing, worthy of appearing prominently in our nation’s history. It had to be seen to be appreciated. Our very suffering seems to have prepared us for such especially rewarding moments. Participating in the grand crusade of our victorious army fills us with pride; it gives special meaning to this historic and glorious sight and allows us to enjoy the sacrifice we made for the homeland. Our flag fluttered in the open air and its colors were as radiant as ever. Even our sergeant, who acted as our standard bearer, understood the important role he was playing at that solemn moment. He looked bigger than life. We had never seen our master sergeant so happy and ready for the occasion. He gave full expression to his military “pose.”
I felt as if possessed by a dream when I saw our troops crossing the bridge. I was that absorbed in my thoughts. Like Lot’s wife, I decided to look back one last time to bid Remich farewell, and everything seemed more beautiful to me. Remich and Luxembourg would remain in our memories forever.
Soon after arriving at the first town, we noticed the wretched state of things among the people. They seemed to be deep in thought and suffering deep sorrow. We can never really appreciate the bitterness of a defeated people when they see an occupying army. The German people had expected their army to return victorious after hearing so much of their triumphs far and wide, after spreading fear everywhere with their new machines of war, after handing incredible defeats to the nations of the world. This did not happen. Their soldiers did not return down these roads the same way they left for the front—singing, proud, and happy. They were exhausted, dirty, broken, sad, and defeated! What an ending for men who always thought they were the first in war! Oh the deceptions of the world!
We passed by several towns and finally reached Beurig, Saarburg, Bex, and Trier, all situated by the Saar. Trier is a beautiful city, not unlike the other one on the opposite side of the river. A very old castle is located nearby. They say it was built in the sixteenth century and that Siegfried the Great lived there.
I worked in the kitchen so that I could get us a good lunch for the march. The soldier’s most important concern after the fighting is to make sure he has some food. Challenges are interesting in the middle of despair; even the listless are encouraged to take action.
I bought some postcards to better remember the towns. We are moving so fast and under such taxing circumstances that we may end up only remembering the sadness and exhaustion. The region is so picturesque. Nature seems to have favored these communities. Its valleys and hills are well cultivated. They make the place look beautiful and full of life, and this is without taking into account the numerous streams on the mountainsides. The favorable changes in our lives may explain why we appreciate this. Otherwise, we would not notice anything. The ruins of the ancient castle of medieval times where Siegfried the Great once lived appear at some distance from here, on a beautiful promontory above a bend on the River Saar. We are presented with so much to contemplate and learn about the history of man! The area brings to mind the legends, tales, stories, novels, and ballads of past generations. Charlemagne the Great, accompanied by his “twelve peers” from France, roamed these lands in pursuit of the Moors.1 Many of my buddies often ask me, “What are you thinking?” I answer, “Everything and nothing.” I worry that they may think I have lost my mind because soldiers are rarely given to reflection. We have really read very little about these places and are just finding out that they existed. This is the time when some of us regret not paying more attention to world geography and history.
We left Beurig on the other side of the Saar and are now in Saarburg. I have enjoyed the place. It is situated on a beautiful hill with a view of the countryside and the two towns. As usual, our sleeping quarters are in a horse stable very near the command post. We have often wondered why our government only rents horse stables or cattle barns for us. Many soldiers could use their own money to rent a bed in every town along the way, but we have been told not to do this. Why? German families invite us and offer us their very best, including bedding and food. Our government does not want us to bother the German people in any way. We do not want our own soldiers to take advantage like the Germans did when they were victorious. The officer in charge of housing takes down the name of the homeowner and address because we expect to pay the rent at a later point. Since the German people will be the ones who will eventually pay, we do not want to be a burden on them. This is why we sleep in cattle sheds. We have nowhere else to go unless we want to be exposed to the elements. We will have to pay rent to France as well. We paid France for the water, the firewood, for the ground that we marched on, and we paid the highest price on the battlefields that we retook for them. The Germans went after the best lands they occupied. They even committed outrages on families. The soldiers that have been discharged and are returning to their homes are aware of this; their families know it too, the whole world knows. This is why they receive us so well. We want everyone to know that the American soldier is not interested in pretense, profit, or abuse. With all that we have done, we have vowed to restore some of the losses and settle scores for the outrages committed on humanity, and we will do this without resorting to the old law of “a tooth for a tooth.” Our behavior is an example of how to treat the vanquished. This does not mean that some of our soldiers have not left their makeshift beds for feathered ones, but they have been subject to the harshest treatment the military hands out. German families expected abuse from irresponsible soldiers, but they are amazed at us. It is not unusual to find us talking with families almost every evening until the late hours in the towns we are occupying. It is even more remarkable that we socialize with the very soldiers who were fighting us to the death a week ago.
The lady of the house where we have just set up has offered her beds, but we have not accepted. We did consent to the humble dinner she prepared for us. We paid her, although she did not want to accept payment. We gave her what we thought was just, and she was amazed at what she considered an excessive amount. I should add that the woman thought she was obligated to feed us, but was delighted to serve us once she understood us. She thought she was to abide by the standard German practice, “to put up as many soldiers as possible and care for them as well as possible.”
We have come across many soldiers in these homes; we had fought them until November 11. They are still wearing uniforms and military insignias. Some of them are friendly and talk to us. They point out their military affiliation and where they fought until the armistice. We exchange views on the things we saw. A young pilot spoke to us at length about his experiences, and we were able to confirm much of what he said when he shared dates and places we recognized. He was an officer and wears the dark iron cross with pride, although he says it is no longer worth anything. Some soldiers, however, are still seriously defiant and cannot bring themselves to accept defeat. Their faces show bitterness and they often exit quietly when we enter their homes, leaving us with their mothers, wives, sisters, girlfriends, and friends. This should make some of our citizens from the United States take pause, especially those people who boasted a burning patriotism but may have been faking all along. They used to say they were ready to die for the country if war came to our land, but not if it occurred elsewhere. They also criticized the president for sending troops to foreign lands. Those of us who came feel and see things differently, and we applaud the wise judgment of our president. We do not mean to say that we should defend the decision to go to war as a just one. It was not for the foot soldier to decide if it was our war or not. How would our opinions have been received? We believe it was a thousand times better to come and finish with the war where it was already being fought. We crossed thousands of miles by sea and left our families grieving over our departure, but we did not expose them to the cowardly, satanic, and unbridled abuse, the despotic humiliations of the boot-wearing tyrannical and merciless invader. The millions who saw action could testify to how ill prepared we were to wage a war within our borders. To restate matters, we have never favored wars, nor do we agree with the reasons for entering the war, but once we were committed and drawn into the fight, and after seeing what we saw, it was best that we fought the war in Europe.
German soldiers who committed cruelties in Russia, France, Belgium, Poland, and the Balkan states could not expect anything less than what they meted out. They were unrestrained and led by unscrupulous men, including the officers of the Kaiser. Many families have told us, “We are so glad that American soldiers are occupying this region.” Are they afraid of the Belgian, French, English, or Polish? They sure are. They know better than anyone else what they did to these justifiably bitter nations.
We passed by several towns and saw uniformed German soldiers in the fields and on the streets. The towns are by the Saar River, a tributary of the Moselle. We are heading toward Trier, which is by the Moselle.
Our soldiers had taken every place in town by the time we arrived. Few stables were available because this is a city and not a town. The towns of Konz and Karthaus once existed side by side, now they are known as Konz-Karthaus. It has paved streets and a good electrical system, the best-kept city we have seen.
Massenburg and I had to walk all over town in search of a room and were received well everywhere we went. We came across two stern-looking German soldiers in one of the homes where we found lodging. The Germans were bothered that their family members paid attention to us. They stomped out in their heavy boots, snorting as they went. We wanted to know what they were saying. The women tried to tell us they were not talking to us. We could tell that their words were not kind, and we were not off by much since they were “birds of a feather.”
The kindly, fearful women calmed us down because we were clearly suspicious of those scoundrels. We continued our conversation and then a young, well-educated soldier appeared. He knew some English and we managed to understand each other even with the bad German we speak. He spoke to us about the fighting. The young soldier had fought in the last front until the last day. Now and then, he would repeat “alles vertag,” which means, “the war is over,” “l’guerre est fini,” or “se acabo la guerra.” A woman was attracted to my dark hair and asked to touch it. When I told her to be my guest and added that she not rub it against the grain, she asked “Why?” I stated that “she could cause sparks.” When everyone understood that I was joking, they had a good-natured laugh.
Massenburg decided that it would be best to look for another place close to the command post. We agreed and went our merry way. We were still carrying our equipment as we headed to the center of town, away from the outskirts where the Germans had tried our patience. We decided to settle in a modern two-story house. The owner wanted to secure some beds for us. We refused and camped out in his living room. The master of the house speaks English well, and we would have liked to talk more, but we were tired.
We can take in the images on the wall from the vantage point of the beds. Some are very elegant. Two especially stand out. They are of William II, the German Kaiser, and his family. The furniture is expensive and beautiful. The family includes the father, mother, and their only son. The father gladly signed his name and address for us: F. Straup, Karthaus Trier, Deutschland.
We gave Karthaus one last look before we left. A big building that I did not recognize is in the middle of town, and many vineyards are to the west. The river extends like a silver ribbon that seems to reach the foot of the mountains to the east. I am not sure that I have my bearings because I woke up disoriented and the cloudy sky did not help. At this distance, all the mountains look like they are full of vineyards.
The beauty of the Saar River, a tributary of the Moselle, is unmatched. Its waters are crystalline and blue like the Moselle’s, and good bridges have been constructed over it. The view of the towns was more beautiful this morning due to the heavy fog that was rising from the river and enveloping them with an almost transparent veil. These are the views that have fascinated the poets, novelists, and fairy tale writers that we read with great pleasure in our schools back home. We now have a better understanding of the cultural origins of North America.
We could still see the beautiful setting when told to march toward the historic city of Trier. It was built during the beginning of the Christian era and has many ruins from the time of the Roman invasions. We saw castle walls covered with ivy and moss. They say that Julius Caesar lived here. The other ruins included public baths and a Roman amphitheater. Another well-preserved building is the Porta Nigra castle. The structure is solid with thick stone.
The barracks for German soldiers are on the way out of town. We saw several soldiers but could not tell if they have been discharged or remain on active duty.
Michel, the young volunteer from New York, tired during the march and thought nothing of dropping out of formation. A sergeant who was prepared for such things immediately ordered him to continue. The poor soul could no longer carry his pack and made it known to the sergeant. The sergeant rained down profanities on the soldier. Michel answered in kind and then the sergeant gave him a backhanded blow over his mouth. The cowardly act bothered us, but, like in the sheep’s tale, we did not say anything. This was not the first time the sergeant did this. Several sergeants have it out for him, but he seems to be careful with them. He may not be very brave, but he is smart and knows how to be in the right with some people.
A short while later, a lieutenant came down on me as if he were the son of Mars. He thought I had taken an extra raincoat and assigned me to kitchen detail. I did not mind the assignment since we had already started volunteering for this kind of work.
We crossed the Moselle before arriving at Schweich, our new place of rest for the night. We crossed a long, beautiful bridge made of cement. The view of the town is more or less like the others I have described by the Moselle. Everything is beautiful and picturesque. As soon as I located a sleeping area and put it in order, I left to receive my punishment. The cooks overlooked that I had been disciplined and treated me like a volunteer. I have already spoken of my friendship with the sergeant at the kitchen. He may have acted differently if he knew the circumstances surrounding my assignment. I enjoyed the afternoon, ate well, and prepared a lunch that not even the officers will enjoy during tomorrow’s march. I retired early.
The river’s different vistas and the historic views of the city of Trier, its mountains, rich fields, forests, and other attractions make everything worthwhile and the difficulties with the high-ranking officers tolerable. The general feeling is that “the war is over.” We will soon forget yesterday’s hardships.
Monday, December 9
This has been one of my most difficult marches. I do not know if we have marched too far or if we simply need rest, but we have definitely walked over rough terrain and climbed up some sharp slopes. The scenery has varied a great deal. We have seen forests with beautiful trees suitable for lumber, tall mountains, clear streams, and fertile valleys. We will sleep in Rivenich tonight. It continues to rain, it never seems to end in these parts. After setting up my bedding, I left for a walk in the town. The first building I came across looked like a store. My buddies had bought everything there was to eat. I bought a postcard with a view of the house. It has a sign that reads “Carl Levy.” The photograph includes the mother and two daughters. We knew them because they had us over for dinner. They had invited my buddy Gersbach, and he asked me to accompany him. We liked all the dishes they prepared for us. They were made with potatoes. I bid the family farewell so I could visit a nearby school. It was late and the children were gone. When I asked for the teacher, his wife wanted to send for him, but I insisted otherwise since I was not visiting on official business. I then visited a church, a very humble church, but very inviting for prayer. This is the first church I have visited since the fighting. It never closed and received believers throughout the war. How many mothers and wives must have raised their prayers for the safety and return of their loved ones, just like ours loved ones were doing for us! Blundering humanity! How can God possibly hear us under these circumstances!
Rivenich is a small rustic town, far from the larger ones and the railroad lines. It is located on a treeless plain, but surrounded by fields of potatoes and sugar beets. The residents are poor peasants, completely given to their work, and they are very hospitable. Their sincerity is undeniable and their difficulties in life leave little room for harboring malice. I can tell that they do not know what happened at the front or of the plans for peace their officials and rulers are negotiating. These places have supplied much of the cannon fodder that is now buried in France and Russia. The young men are obviously absent. Few of them returned from the war. Some parents tell us that all their sons remained on the battlefields. Did they join the military out of a sense of patriotism or were they forced?
Tuesday, December 10
We continued our usual march over plains, fields, and forests until we arrived at Nuremberg. Nearby, a large mountain rises in the middle of an immense valley, like a man-made pyramid. Its summit is adorned with luxuriant trees and since there is no other mountain nearby, it looks spectacular.
Some lower-ranking officers insist that I do kitchen detail or guard duty like the rest of the privates. Every time my turn comes up, a work order or something else from the Intelligence Office has rescued me. This bothers some of my buddies and even makes them angry and jealous even though I have told them not to envy my poor fate. I worked in the kitchen today and this seems to have pleased them. I stayed longer because I landed in my element. The work is not difficult or tiring, and I can leave early. I am always glad to leave but not before I prepare a “lunch.” Rations are limited during the march and we only eat twice a day.
I am familiar with the work routine and know where I can find the good food. I wait until everyone has eaten supper so that I can claim a “beefsteak” and cook it to taste. Swiss cheese, California plums, and New York butter make up my lunch for the trip. If the people who dislike me and are glad to see me punished with kitchen work knew this, they would really be bothered.
I stayed late in the kitchen making my preparations. By the time I went to town all the stores had closed and I was unable to buy postcards.
Wednesday, December 11
Everything was fine this morning, and immediately after breakfast we began the difficult march that is already giving us nausea. We have covered twenty miles and are thoroughly exhausted. Many of the soldiers were so tired they quit. The trucks picked them up, but by now they are probably doing kitchen work or guard duty. The landscape looks even more beautiful than before. We are following a winding trail that takes us up and around tall mountains and brings us almost face to face with the troops who have been following us. Our columns of marching men with rifles in a shoulder arms position and drawn bayonets look like a snake moving around the mountains. With this undulating movement, soldiers who had already passed us would reappear and overtake us, but on the side of another hill, above or below us. We talk with the soldiers who are not too tired to share a word or two. This somehow lifts our spirits even as we march under the unrelenting rain. Despite the exhaustion, something inspires us and stirs our souls. It never fails; someone who is unable to hold back these feelings bursts out singing a popular song like “The Long, Long Trail.” There never was a more appropriate moment. No sooner had the singing started—who knows when or by whom—than we began to hear the sweet voice of the troops rebound over the mountains:
There’s a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams.
There’s a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true;
Till the day when I’ll be going down
That long, long trail with you.2
After marching on the side of a tall mountain and by a crystal-clear stream, we stopped at midday to eat our lunch in front of a beautiful church and a castle on the summit of another mountain. I would have liked to have the binoculars we used at the front in order to get a better view of the Burg Arras castle.
A few hours later, we arrived at a town named Alf. Although some of us thought we would sleep there, we continued on the left side of the river until we reached Bremen. The railroad tracks run on both sides of the river.
We were tired from our long march when we arrived at three in the afternoon. We entered through the main street that runs along the river and had barely placed our equipment at our assigned homes when the officers called us out for formation. The bugle echoed in the surrounding mountains and we answered the call like the crusaders of the past. We fell into formation in front of a pole where the German flag and possibly the banners of the crusaders had once flown. The band played the "Marseillaise" and our national anthem as we fell into a majestic silence and supreme concentration. The flag rose so proud and beautiful with its symbolic colors against the blue sky. Below it was the ground we had just taken from Kaiser’s Germany. The Germans were sad as they witnessed the spectacular display. The older ones had to hold back the bitter tears that destiny had granted them.
Our house is on a street that faces the river, and it is such a delight to see everything that passes by without having to go out. Today was a time of rest. It is ten in the morning and no one has left the house. Resting is so good! Several of us are boarded in this place. It is cold outside, but it is not raining.
They gave us chocolate tablets at midday. We were happy to hear that the marching orders for the afternoon had been canceled.
I prepared for any possible inspection by cleaning my rifle, shaving, and washing my feet with hot water.
During the afternoon, I visited a very beautiful church situated at the highest point in town. These temples, like all the others we have seen, say so much about the generous and faithful souls who have lived here and probably also about the ones who continue to live here. They mostly remind us of people from the more distant past. No matter how lost our world may be, every town has a place like this to meditate and consider the good path the martyr of Golgotha shows us.
I climbed higher to get a better view. From there, I observed the town as if it was at my feet. The river that passes in front of it bends within a short distance and seems to flow into the interior of the mountain. A building that serves as a cloister for female novices is situated at the river bend. The roads that run on both sides of the river look like white ribbons between the dark background of the mountains and the crystal blue of the calm river waters. A gray winter sky hangs over the tall mountains.
Friday, December 13
The bugle announced reveille early in the morning. The sound cut through the morning breeze, filling us with an enthusiasm that surprised us. I was going to get up at the first call but the sergeants that sleep with us got me angry and I stayed in bed. The band played a beautiful military march whose melody wafted in through the window. After breakfast, I once again climbed to a high point to reflect on our new and beautiful landscape. The memory of places like these may be all we take to our children. I could write so much about what I see and even more if I knew its history and evolution.
Our orders to move west were not unexpected since we were supposed to have followed that direction all along. We had wandered toward the northeast. Our stay in this area has been somewhat depressing because we have not received news about how the rest of the world is doing. We are stuck here.
Saturday, December 14
We returned to Alf in the morning and climbed westward around the tall mountains with our heavy gear. The hike was tiring but the beautiful panoramic views made it all worthwhile. Some of us learned of these surroundings during our youth in books written by German men of letters. We never thought we would ever see them, especially under such difficult circumstances. German artists have painted this landscape to immortalize the beauty of their country. Many of these scenes also appear in textbooks. It is so much better to see them firsthand. This is the original natural landscape. We step on the same ground as the prehistoric giants, as the crusaders on their way to rescue the holy land, as the Franks and the Moors. The vandal hordes of Huns, Goths, and Teutons pitched their tents around here while on their victorious march to the south.
We have arrived practically dragging under the weight of our backpacks. The body is tired, but not the spirit. Our imagination is filled with visions of men from the distant past who influenced other men to settle these lands and colonize the virgin jungles of America. We see the procession of Goths, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Huns, Teutons, and Vandals. And now, for the first time, the old world witnesses America’s invasion. What will history call us, perhaps “The Vandal hordes from the West sent by Mr. Wilson?” or “The Mercenary armies that defended the Morgans and the Rockefellers?” We have every right to be called, “The Great Crusade of the West for the rights of the suffering humanity.” Time will tell. Which nations clamored for us to enter the war and even asked that we send fresh troops to hold back the German offensives? Which nations placed all their hopes on our troops?
We should not have to worry about history’s verdict, but then how shall we explain the sacrifice of millions of men who demanded justice and shed their blood on the battlefields?
These thoughts join with the memories of my home and family as we go up and down the tall mountains and march along the Moselle River.
We began to feel the cold as we left the rough terrain behind us. We passed by a lovely town with summer homes for people of wealth. Even the trees are planted and pruned to suit the whims of men. They have diverted a stream from the mountain and formed a lake with waterfalls to properly honor Cupid.
We have completed our march for the day at a very poor town with horse stables. We were so tired and hungry our supper tasted like the best we have ever eaten. We slept in a small house near the post office where I bought a postcard with an image of the town. The owner is Johan Wolver, and the town is Strotzbüsch. I took a brisk walk and saw ill-kept alleys, houses, and garden enclosures. A small knoll is visible from here. It is called Siebenbachtal because seven streams are said to originate there. This suggests an abundance of water, but it lacks sunlight. I could not visit the place but believed what they said of its beauty.
We were told during breakfast that we would not depart until 9:15 because it was Sunday. We marched twelve kilometers without much effort until we reached Mehren, a small but beautiful, well-kept town. Its white homes present a marked contrast to the green fruit trees in the area. The streets are spacious and clear and the roads are like white ribbons extending in different directions. Its church is not as large as the ones in other equally populated towns, but it is very clean.
Our host family treated us well. This time we did not sleep in a horse stable because none was available. They fed each one of us for a mark, and we insisted they accept payment. We read magazines, shaved, and waited for the military review in the afternoon.
Five of us stayed at the house. Since one of my buddies is of German origin and another speaks the language well we had no difficulty being understood. I am beginning to expand my German vocabulary. My friend who speaks German fell hard for the young lady of the house. He did not act in the usual and irresponsible manner of most soldiers in love. The family includes a young man who served in the German army for four years, but spent all his time at the Belgian and Russian fronts. He tells us of the horrific slaughter of Russians who charged their machine guns en masse. He was especially struck by the Russian women; he felt they were the most beautiful in the world.
Monday, December 16
We rested and ate breakfast after waiting for a long time in the cold weather. The soldiers were so anxious that they resorted to profanity. I visited the church and came by some writing paper and newspapers at the YMCA. I returned to the house after reading an issue of the Saturday Evening Post. I did not feel like roaming anymore and wrote until suppertime.
I felt very cold even though formation had not lasted long. Our cooks may always be by a fire, but their work is outside and very difficult, and it is not appreciated. The winters in these parts are colder than ours.
Tuesday, December 17
The morning was very cold and rainy. We only pulled ourselves out of our beds because of our sense of responsibility. We stayed inside until midday and read, wrote, chatted, and smoked because we had nothing else to do. We simply wanted to pass the time.
Some of us went to the YMCA after supper mostly to relax. We bought cakes and cigarettes and headed back to our rooms to wallow in our sadness. I read out of an official primary school textbook, the Meine Erstes Lesebuch. Germans use it in their schools. I read until I was too tired to continue. The trumpet called us for supper and we ran expecting something new, but soon returned to sleep for the night.
Wednesday, December 18
We continue to rest while the cold weather bears down on us. I lack reading materials for the long hours of the day and night and look forward to hearing from my family, especially since the last letter spoke of their bouts with influenza. They tell me the epidemic is causing the same kind of suffering we have seen here. I cannot understand why this worries me more now than when we were fighting. Sergeant Kelleher came to tell us that we are leaving tomorrow. As members of the same detachment and company we have forged a good friendship. Our civilian lives were similar and this encourages us to work on our relationship as we endure these trying times.
The rain is getting worse with every passing moment. It caught me by surprise at the YMCA and I got drenched despite the fact that I ran. I went for something to eat, and we passed the time eating, talking, and singing. We sang until we ran out of songs from back home. Despite everything, we enjoy these moments in the military.
Thursday, December 19
The morning brought rain and higher temperatures. Sometimes the rain turns into hail or snow.
My friends are enjoying their conversation with our Polish friend Blo-chaske. The snow began to fall heavily before noon, and the ground, homes, trees, and roads took on incredible and beautiful shapes.
They gave out aviator-style caps for the cold in the afternoon. Nighttime brought a bitter cold, probably more serious than last night. The trees make squeaking sounds, reminding us of the times when we would gather and hear stories of fairies, goblins, and ghosts. Those days were the best, the sweet times of youthful innocence, when things of the world had not yet distracted our hearts. On this very night we are in the land that gave us many of the legends that are now part of our memory. We have no trouble recalling the past as we sit in front of this fireplace that raises our spirit and once again stimulates us to see what only a child can see.
The dawn brought a beautiful day after snow fell most of the night. The wind is still and the trees are bending under the weight of so much snow. We have also given a stooped appearance on these blessed roads. The view of the town is typical of the brightly colored Christmas scenes in the postcards we enjoy every year in the United States. This is also where many of those postcards originate. The town is entirely under white snow and the Catholic Church with its symbolic cross stands above the other buildings. The cross is now a glowing piece of ice. Children of all ages take to the streets in their coats to enjoy snowball fights. A large number of birds are perched on the windows where the women place something for them to eat. They do this in the spirit of Christmas. Everything calls on us to contemplate God.
A friend brought the anticipated news that we were sentenced to kitchen duty for failing to fall into formation the past few mornings. This did not scare us, but we were determined to figure out how to avoid the punishment and get back at everyone who bears us ill will. We do not look kindly on anyone who accuses us of something for which we are not to blame. They should be promoted to a rank that they deserve, but not at our expense.
I decided to walk around the town to enjoy what nature offers in Germany. The hills to the north are covered with snow and the forest looks beautiful. I was about to go to a nearby town when I saw some of our squads in training. This sounded an alarm in me. I did not want to explain what I was doing and had no other choice but to hightail it over the snow, in the opposite direction, to the other side of town. I came across a good number of men, women, and children who were repairing the roads. They seemed to be doing the work without pay because they were all so happy. This is the kind of spirit these communities nurture and that we are losing in the United States. Vanity, egotism, and pretense seem to predominate over there.
Several carts were coming into town filled with sugar beets, which were stored in large enclosures. The conviviality among the people is admirable.
Saturday, December 21
We retraced our steps twelve kilometers today until we reached Strotzbüsch. Everything we had seen before seemed so different now that we were marching in the snow. The hills, forests, fields, towns, they all had a different appearance. We ate at Strotzbüsch and continued until we reached a small town whose name I cannot recall. We will be sleeping in the home of a woman with a family that includes a young man who is about sixteen years old, two hard-working maidens, and a beautiful girl who is around seven.
Some soldiers are thrashing some wheat with a US-made McCormick. The family is very poor but industrious and energetic. The snow is no longer falling in this region, or it has melted, because we have only seen mud on the roads and streets. Our exhaustion and bad weather drove us to bed early. We are so used to the rough life in the horse stables that readapting to life in America is going to be difficult. We have become accustomed to this life because we believe that part of our responsibility is to bear it. I consider it a sad experience because that is how we look when we arrive at our new quarters every afternoon, when the sun is going down. We look like lost chickens in a new roost. The small groups of soldiers of twelve or fewer arrive drenched and with a rifle in their arms and backpacks on their shoulders. They enter the chicken coops or horse stables looking overhead for a ladder to climb into a sleeping area. The soldiers who find a spot busy themselves preparing their beds, while the others take all their belongings and follow the officer to new chicken coops in the other parts of town until everyone is in their respective pen. As soon as the bugle sounds we make our last cackling sound like back at the “rancho.” Everything then becomes quiet until the next day.
Sunday, December 22
We began our march at eight in the morning to Hontheim, on the same road that brought us from Bremen. From there, we headed to the right. The flat terrain changed soon after we left and the mountains to the north of the Moselle began to appear. We passed by many villages and mountains. We traveled fifty minutes and rested fifteen until we arrived at a point where we could go down to the river. While on our march, we were struck by the beautiful view of the Moselle and the many towns on its banks. We came to Kinheim, but instead of going through the town we continued on the side of the mountain until we reached Kröv.
Barrera and Gómez had already picked a school by the river in which to sleep. After supper, I went to town and bought a reading primer for 88 “pfennigs.” I stopped by the church and several businesses. I was tired but the town still seemed beautiful. The noise in the home where I was to sleep was unbearable because of the large number of soldiers. I have noticed that all the public schools still have crosses in them. Catholicism predominates. I expected something different.
I woke up early to receive the orders of the day and then had breakfast. Formation was called within a short while and we were ordered to march two-and-one-half kilometers to a place near Kinheim. We crossed a river in small groups on a ferry manned by a German and landed at Lösnich, a lovely town where we are to spend the winter.
While we waited for the rest of the troops to cross, the locals offered us apples after seeing one of our soldiers trying to buy some from a youngster who was passing by.
Once we had dispersed throughout the town, I found myself in a lone house near our kitchen. I was accompanied by Sergeant Otto, the person who supplies us clothing. The old and broken house is very cold. It has a good fireplace but we have no wood to burn. The town that will serve as our winter home is beautiful, this is a relief. We will be able to sleep with warm, dry feet. We could no longer bear the long marches in the mud. The marches had lasted twenty-two days and we rested little. We only really rested when we took off our shoes and socks for the evening. I was fortunate to always have more socks than I needed. I often wore up to four pairs of thick socks because of the cold, humidity, and load that I carried. This is how I avoided the blisters that bothered the other soldiers. Many of them also contracted pneumonia.
Christmas Eve in Lösnich, Germany, 1918
As expected, I was very cold last night, but survived.
José Leal, a buddy I had not seen in some time, arrived while I was eating breakfast. I invited him to my cold house since he did not have a place to stay. He had a good supply of rations, which means he has figured out a way to survive the hard times. This is another soldier who now knows how to deal with the difficulties of a challenging life. His job is to deliver supplies to the soldiers. He told me of his difficulties when he was “short” and expecting a discharge from the military, all along carrying himself in the courteous manner typical of our people. By the time the war ended he had become an expert at supplying himself first. He now had big pieces of good bread, plenty of butter, and many other things that are like pure gold among the soldiers.
After securing a place to sleep that was better than the night before, we looked for some of our buddies in the other towns. We visited three towns but did not find them and had to return to prepare for formation.
I had forgotten that this was Christmas Eve so I ironed my uniform in the late afternoon and decided to attend mass the next day. I have also been invited to a celebration organized by Gersbach, a friend of German origin who has helped me so much as an interpreter. He shares with me whatever he finds interesting. A German family invited Gersbach to a Christmas party and he has asked me to join him. I definitely do not want to pass up the opportunity to learn how the German people observe Good Tydings.
Wednesday, December 25, Christmas Day, 1918, in Germany
I did not have to wait long for Gersbach. He arrived on time and we promptly headed for the German home where we were received with courtesy and kindness. The hosts’ reception already makes us feel the true spirit of the Christmas. They had worked hard preparing the room where the gathering was to take place. They still had to paint the walls when we arrived. The two young German soldiers who did the work were very clever. They dipped rags in the paint and then glided them uniformly from the top of the wall to the bottom. The effect was beautiful and cost little. I soon learned why the soldiers were so gracious with the family. They had lost their sons in the horrible war and had nothing left but the friendship of their sons’ friends. This was an example of fellowship that we, the Mexican Americans, could emulate in America.
I saw the soldiers work with great pleasure and self-satisfaction. The parents could not help but feel a deep appreciation for their sons’ loyal friends. I felt that they wanted to cry, and they probably did not because we were there. They cried to themselves.
Two or three families arrived early. They talked a great deal and played some games that we did not join because we did not understand them, but this did not keep us from sharing in their joy. I had invited my friend José Leal and explained to him why we should be interested in the celebration. I appreciated his company as we shared memories of our own similar festivities in Texas. I could understand the festivities because my buddy Gersbach was close and explained everything to me.
A young, very attractive German woman in mourning clothes arrived. I may have been indiscreet or overtaken by the moment, but I wanted to know everything and engaged Gersbach in a conversation on the matter. The lady of the house realized what was happening and when the young woman in black walked out with her friends, she took the opportunity to explain that she had lost her fiancé during the last hours of fighting. This caused her such profound sadness that she resolved to always dress in mourning and to never marry. This is a highly unusual decision because she is young. We would rather that she does not keep the promise and seek her own happiness.
We were tired and sleepy when they placed the tablecloths. Two children, a boy of eight and a girl of ten, arrived and sat down. They were told that Baby Jesus would bring presents and they right away broke out in fervent prayer from within their youthful souls. They had prayed for half an hour when a young woman dressed as an angel entered with a large container full of fruits, pastries, and a few toys. They distributed the fruits and pastries among the children. When this was over, the children went to sleep in their rooms and we continued with our conversation. This is when the celebration turned to the bottles of the famed white and red wines of the Moselle. My buddies drank a good number of glasses. I did not share much in this delight. I only tasted a glass of each of the juices of the famous vines of the region. I regret that I was unable to note the difference in the color or the taste. Everything was grape to me. I was more obliging with the fruits and pastries. They did not have to ask me twice.
The guests gave presents to the children. We had not expected this and promised to bring some gifts the next day. We were very happy as we said good-bye to the families who had shared their Christian traditions and brought us memories of home.
The streets were covered with snow by the time we left the celebration. Who knows how long it had been snowing. It made Christmas complete. We did not feel comfortable trampling in our rugged boots through the snow that God’s hand had given us. Lost in deep thought, each one of us went to sleep and enjoyed a snow-white dream in the middle of a dark void that keeps us from feeling true joy.
I attended high mass and silently longed for home and family. The church is beautiful, but I did not understand the sermon because it was in German.
I bought some souvenirs to send to my children and to comply with local customs.
Thursday, December 26
We had a grand military parade today. Both regiments participated, the 360th and the 359th of the 180th Brigade. The review took place to the west and on a beautiful plain along the river, in front of the town of Kinheim. The two regimental bands played in the historic review, our first military exercise in Germany, or in what will once again become France. Brigadier General McAlexander reviewed the parade. Other officers accompanied him.
Sergeant Kelleher came to tell me that we had to prepare for formation with the Corps of Combat engineers. It was a beautiful formation. The day lent itself for the occasion. It was very cloudy and fair. This is why we were not bothered by the long customary wait for the officers. The military setting brings to mind many other such events this place has witnessed. If the mountains could speak they would tell us much about their past. It has seen great congregations of men in preparation for the deliverance of the Holy Land, the defense against the Moorish invasion, the invasion of Russia by Napoleon the Great, the war of Napoleon III, and the last four years of fighting. We can only wonder how the roads running alongside the Moselle looked, the railroads as well, all crowded with young men in their brilliant armor expressing the most self-serving of all desires, to show off their modern armaments. These same mountains have seen the ghastly result of all this, just like they have witnessed the sad, dirty, wounded, ill, and defeated troops during the past century, marching without weapons, without officers, without their uniforms or the laurels they expected . . . and the history of man continues.
Friday, December 27
We are all taking classes; we were ordered to fall into formation and train with the combat engineers. We were ready for the task when good fortune smiled on us. The combat engineers were sent to gather firewood and we were left without an officer. We returned to our rest areas to relax another day. We cannot be blamed if a unit is not available to incorporate us. The officers in charge of the R.I.O. should be on top of these things. We had been without an officer since before the end of the war. This continues until now. We do not fit in any unit since we belong to the General Headquarters Company, which is scattered in different towns. Our officer has not returned from the hospital and we would prefer that he does not. This is not to wish him bad luck. On the contrary, we want the best for him, but we do not want him as an officer.
We decided to clean our rifles since a march is not scheduled for the afternoon. I changed my place of residence during the night and settled in room 27 in a house by the river. The gentleman of the house is an artisan and has a workshop where he and his children work. He does not seem to be setting a good example for them because he likes to drink a great deal of wine and spends more than he earns.
His children insist I learn German. They tell me I am able to converse in their language. With a book in hand, I speak to them at length for pleasure and to improve my ability.
The night brought snow and cold temperatures.
The morning was beautiful. I woke up early and had to wait by the river because I do not have a company to join in formation and I cannot take to the streets until everyone has completed their morning drills. I have stayed inside like a prisoner and fear that an officer will discover me. I am at a loss about what I would tell the officers, some of whom are unfair and do not accept explanations. In the military, the person in charge is in the business of ordering others. All I can say is that I am not at fault and that their behavior is criminal. I will continue with what I am doing until they catch me.
I learned of an upcoming inspection of the soldiers’ quarters during breakfast and returned to my room to make sure that everything was in order. I prepared my backpack and everything else like when we were in combat, but waited in vain all day because no one came. At midday, officers ordered me to report to General Headquarters.
The Schwab family treats us well, especially the kind old lady who worries so much when her husband comes home loud and drunk. She tells me—probably because she does not want to upset me—that this has been taking place for a long time. I never know when he leaves or returns, but I do know that he is always in a tavern.
Sunday, December 29
I slept well and woke up late. I noticed on the assignment chart that my turn was up. I will not mind my Monday responsibility since I am tired with the life I am leading.
Mr. Schwab was so happy to hear I was asking about the Catholic mass that he offered to accompany me. I saw my good friend Fidel Gleim at church. Everyone came out in his or her Sunday best. Mr. Schwab introduced me to some of his high-class compatriots, but I was unable to communicate with them. The Germans seem to be strong in their Christian faith. I hope this is not only due to tradition.
My fellow Mexicans and I are willing to accept whatever fate brings us. We are scattered in different towns along the Moselle. I will try to see them. The Germans have an unusual way of announcing a new law or regulation to the people. An official walks the streets with a bell in one hand and the document in the other and jingles the bell at every corner. The people gather and he reads the document in a loud voice. He does this throughout the town, much like it has been done for generations.
Despite some challenges, I have improved my knowledge of German with the help of my fourteen-year-old teacher, Peter Schwab.
I spent the afternoon in the town’s outskirts and witnessed the arrival of the train with passenger cars and freight wagons. Everything is very different from back home, including the people, the railroad stations, and their technology. I carried on a conversation with an old German from Köln who works in a factory that manufactures pen knives. Many families stroll along the river and although they seem happy, their faces show the wear of living without many things.
Monday, December 30
I reported early for kitchen duty and worked alongside Domingo Pacheco from San Antonio. Our first job was to bring water from the fountain. The kitchen is responsible for preparing food for two officers. This means our breakfast was very good. The dog of the wealthy gets the best crumbs. Pacheco and I shared stories of our lives, which made the time pass by quickly. He lives near the San Jose Mission. The mere mention of the mission brought back memories from my youth. He knows my favorite places and I know much of his history. His life deserves a book all its own. I must note that Pacheco trained many of our rookies in the use of the bayonet at Camp Travis.
Most of my day was dedicated to quill work, not the plucking kind, but keeping a written account of the items in the kitchen and the like. This was not so bad. The kitchen was later moved to room number 49. I received a letter from my friend Robert Hoey who lives in Middletown, New York. This is how the letter reads in English:
Dear Luz
I received your letter of November 21 today. You asked me to write you a long letter, so I will. In it you asked me to send you a green ribbon, so I did. One side is shiny, the other is dull. The dull side is for insignias. You said you had me a notebook, from what you said, it must be very nice, a little token to remember you by. I am glad to hear you are helping your comrades to learn to speak Spanish and English. I was glad to hear you had a father, wife, and children. I have myself two brothers and one sister. It is quite some time you went through Middletown from my story “A Soldier of the 90th Division from U.S. to Germany.3
Luz’s friend,
ROBERT HOEY
27 Albert St., Middletown, N.Y.
Now that the year is coming to an end, I want you to know where I am and how I got here. Pull out your geography book or a map of the world: We left Camp Travis, San Antonio, on June 6; that same day we passed by New Braunfels, San Marcos, Austin, and Texarkana; the following day we went by Pine Bluff, Arkansas, crossed the Mississippi, St. Louis, Mo., Cleveland, Erie, Ohio, Buffalo, Utica, Middletown, New York, N.Y., and Hoboken, N.J. We passed by the Statue of Liberty in the New York Harbor and Long Island, and on June 14 left for France. We traveled seven days and nights across the Atlantic at twenty-two knots an hour and without ever seeing a submarine. Two submarine destroyers accompanied us as we departed and six of them received us as we neared England. A submarine destroyer is a small fast-moving warship with several cannon. They are the only ones who can finish with the feared submarines. White Island, England, came into sight on the twenty-first. We slept as we entered Southampton and disembarked in the morning. We spent the whole day under a covering on the wharf. In the afternoon, we boarded England’s King Edward and crossed the English Channel. Many of us became seasick. We came ashore and spent a day in Le Havre. The next day, we left for France in a small train for transporting cattle and passed by the suburbs of Paris. We did not see the city because it was dark and we slept. We reached Troyes and then Latrecey, where we spent a few days. On the first of July, we moved to Rouvres-sur-Aube. From there, we traveled to Toul, Saint-Mihiel, and Pont-à-Mousson on the Moselle. We fought there for the first time and then headed for the front at Verdun. We continued fighting in Mouzay and Stenay, France. The armistice came. We rested a few days in Mont; later we passed through Luxembourg and in Germany we passed by many towns, including Trier and Zeltingen (on the Moselle River) as we made our way to Koblenz. We expect to be here until peace is completely assured.
Greetings to all,
Your brother,
LUZ
I stayed in my room most of this peaceful day. I wrote, read, and picked up woolen clothing that I had been issued. The waters of the Moselle, which we have admired for their crystalline beauty, were turbulent this morning due to the heavy rain in the mountains and other high areas. Although the Moselle almost reaches the house where I sleep, the people are not concerned with floods. They know the river and they caress it as if it were a lion in a cage. I really do not trust it. The Moselle is the biggest river I have seen around here.
I attended the rosary in the evening. The rain had kept me from going anywhere, but after the rosary I took to the streets. I noticed that people were in good spirits, as they usually are at the end of the year. The soldiers carried on with the same general feeling behind closed doors. Since no one was playing music, we were able to hear rousing conversations, ecstatic laughter, and the sound of glasses as the soldiers toasted with white and red wine, or with champagne.
While roaming the dark and rainy streets, I recalled a dream from last night and realized that I am witnessing what came to me in my sleep. I again have something to share with people who do not believe in dreams. Superstition or coincidence may account for what I dreamed, but I have enjoyed this evening walk in the middle of a torrential rain and the deep darkness of night. I observe the shadows of my buddies hopping across the wet streets. I wonder if they were bored like me and went out into the rain without caring about getting wet.
The First Day of 1919
The morning was still and the life of the town unfolded like a dream. The people give themselves to their daily tasks. The soldiers move slowly. They prefer not to cross the street and show their wear from yesterday’s sleepless night. The river follows its course, carrying everything in its way. The mountains serve as the river’s natural barrier.
I have written home and sent good wishes for the New Year. The kindness of my hosts has moved me to give them some small gifts. I met up with Gleim at mass and he invited me to join him at his house. I consider Gleim one of us because of his kindness toward our raza in civilian life. This means he cannot be blamed for the racial prejudice and discrimination that is directed at us, the humble, poor, and lower-status people we are. Although he is never the object of racial insults, he does not hesitate to speak out when someone speaks badly of his mother’s race. Gleim believes in the basic worth of men, but we can only convince people of this through force of arms. This is the best way to overthrow tyrants, usurpers, and despots, and who cares if they call us thieves, bandits, and murderers like Robin Hood and William Tell!
Gleim is treated well here and wherever he goes. He knows how to live among “the people” and knows how to command respect. I had a good time with Gleim, just like in America, France, and Luxembourg.
Upon returning to my quarters, I found out that a sergeant had been looking for me. He later sent me a message that the Intelligence Office was reorganizing and that I should expect a new order. This is what I dreamed last night.
Thursday, January 2
The morning was very cold and rainy, and I stayed inside all day. I find these days very useful, although I do not know if what I do will bring me good results. I was told to pick up a new blanket and shoes that had been issued to me. My load will get heavier, but it does not matter. These things are bound to come in handy.
A young German woman sewed the insignias on my uniforms.
Three buddies are leaving for America. We are happy for them. We also wonder about their future and look forward to our own departure.
I received a package from home and, as expected, I was happy. If I were to ever wish that a family member face the difficult challenges before me now, I would mean well. This is where we can really appreciate home, family, and nation.
My dear soul mate:
I received the package that you sent me in November. In spite of it all, we have had very good luck. The cold temperatures that I feared never came. It does not even feel like we are in the middle of winter. We have had several snows, but it warms up after it melts. The rivers rise with the snowmelt. We have not felt the cold. It may be that we have good coats or that we have acclimatized. Do you think the cold weather is going to bother me with my seven pairs of socks? I wear as many as four pairs of the heavy type. I think that if I don’t lose them while on the move, I will have them for a long time after the war.
Tell my father-in-law Gregorio that I may go to Africa from here because things are not yet settled. It may be worth going over there and bringing back an elephant trunk to turn into a totem. At this point, this Indian has learned to shoot.
My love to everyone.
LUZ
Today was as good as yesterday. My sister Clotilde sent me another package. I really appreciate the gift and her demonstration of affection. Anyone who sees us as idle and government-kept men could say we lack nothing, but this would be far from the truth as long as we continue to be away from our loved ones.
A group of friends and I spent a good while talking about what we had received in the mail.
I received orders to head out for Zeltingen and immediately began to prepare for the trip, all along cherishing the hope my faith gives me.