An architectural draftsman from Indianapolis, Vernon Kniptash served as a radio operator in the 150th Field Artillery Regiment, 42nd (Rainbow) Division, and had seen action in Champagne and the Meuse-Argonne. The spring of 1919 found him on occupation duty at Bad Neuenahr in the Rhineland, waiting to go home.
Mar. 30, 1919 Sunday and baked ’em all day. Got restless after dinner, and Skinner and I walked around town. Had the blues pretty bad. Monotony gets me going. Played solitaire this evening. Such is Sunday in the A. of O.
Mar. 31, 1919 We got ’em. Had ’em all day. Can’t shake ’em. Damn Blues.
April 1, 1919 Had a parade this morning. Gen. Gatley pinned a ribbon on our standard, and then we Passed in Review before him. Col. Bob then made a speech. He talked to us once before at St. Nazaire in 1917. Made a fairly good speech this time. Told us what a Hell of a good regiment we were, etc., etc. He’s trying pretty hard to get back on speaking terms with the boys. Not much of a job after a month under that Heth. He’s a welcomed visitor, believe me. He said during his speech that the Regiment had taken part in eleven different battles; two of them were major operations, and nine were minor. It’s quite a record, and one that few Regiments can boast.—There’s an indescribable restlessness springing up among the American soldiers and the German people now. When we first came here they treated us like Kings, and we couldn’t understand it. We were too glad to leave the cave man life and get back to civilization to try to dope out their friendliness. I savvy it now. It’s their damn propaganda again. They had hopes that Wilson would make things easy for them at the peace table, and treated us accordingly. Now that Wilson is sitting on them as hard as the rest they are getting ugly. They are poor losers in the first place, and then to lose their final bet is too much for them. They’re forgetting who came out on the short end of this war, and are trying to order us around. See where they killed an American soldier in Coblenz. They better watch their step and not carry things too far. I’ve lost patience with them, and I venture to say I’m not the only one. Damn Dutch square-heads. I loathe every last one of them. Everything they do is underhanded and sneaking. Dirtiest fighters in the world, and they have lost none of their habits since they’ve gotten back into civil life. Lord, how I hate this race. I don’t want any Kaiser lover in the States to get sassy with me. Might lose my temper and get mad. Germany will never be the same again, I’m afraid. Too many Americans have seen her the way she really is. Sure be glad when we leave here. Am sick of it all.
April 18, 1919 Slept like a log last night and had breakfast at 9:00. We’re supposed to pull out this afternoon. The confusion has cleared up, and things are running pretty smoothly now. There’s fellows from several different Divisions on board. Most of them are wounded men. Men with legs off, blinded, and 75 cases of shell shock. They’re in a bad way.—Well, we’re on our way. Just finished our supper and heard the engines start up. Choked the meal down and hustled on deck. At 5:30 P.M., the boat got into motion, and at 7:00 P.M. there was no more France. Nothing but water now. The boys did not cheer. They are all happy, but they regret to leave France just a little bit. Just 18 months ago today we left New York harbor. Coincidence. Quite a little difference between the two take-offs. The other one left me with an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach while this one . . . well . . . I don’t know just how it does make me feel. I don’t feel like yelling and raising Hell, and yet I’m not a bit sorry I’m leaving France. Curious. I didn’t get sick on the other trip. Wonder if I will on this one? Don’t see why I should. This boat won’t ride near as rough as the Lincoln did. We’ll see.
April 19, 1919 Slept like a log again last night. The ventilation is perfect. This is sure some boat. Had breakfast, and then went up and listened to a band concert. Then went thru a cootie inspection. This damn Army just can’t do without inspections.—Watched the shell shocked boys for awhile. They are caged in on all sides. At times they act perfectly sane, and then again they’re hog wild. One of them thinks he owns a white horse, and he spends the biggest part of the day grooming him. Another ties and unties knots in a rope for hours at a time. The worst case of them all is the one that walks back and forth with his head sunk on his chest and his hands clasped in front of him. He never says a word and never gets off his path. It’s a shame to see these big huskies in such a condition. It would be far better to lose an arm or a leg. They say that they will be alright in two to three years. I sincerely hope so.—The ship is just naturally leaving this place. Doing its best, and that’s 24 knots an hour (27 miles). It makes the Lincoln look like a tub. Haven’t had any inkling of seasickness yet. I’ve seen only one boy sick as yet. The sea is like glass, and you’d never know it was moving. Don’t imagine choppy waves would have much effect on this baby.—Had supper at 4 o’clock and laid around on deck till bedtime. Sure was a wonderful day. Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and all’s I got in the way of new clothes is a shirt that fits me around the neck.