Letter written August 6, 1918

Dear Mother -:

I haven’t written you for nearly three weeks and I am very sorry about it but the this time it actually could not be helped. If I remember correctly at that time I was quietly installed in a farm and expecting quite a rest. But somehow or other I can’t keep away from the war and the next day we moved off to this last attack, that beginning July 18 of which you have probably read something by this time. Things went splendidly and although I never did so much work or went thru more it was well worth it all for it set the ball rolling and it hasn’t stopped yet and better than that we advanced. That is the first time we have ever advanced when I was along in the 15 months that I have been here. You really can’t imagine the satisfaction of moving into a territory which the Bosch had recently left and left in a hurry. We stayed in that affair for about a week and then came out with expectations of a little rest at least. The day we got out, however, I received orders to go to absolutely the other end of France to get some material. The trip was wonderful but needless to say not a great deal of rest. I saw some very wonderful country tho, and had, strange to relate, remarkably fine weather all the way. We were gone ten days and I came back yesterday to find the outfit again installed on the front, heaven be praised, tho a very quiet one. On the way back, I stopped for two hours in Paris or a little more and saw Mildred (Cousin Mildred Woodruff of Auburn, living and working in Paris) and had dinner with her. Anna, I think her name is, was there too and we had a perfectly great time just talking. I would have liked to stay longer but I had to leave early the next morning and my convoy was about ten miles out. I told her to write you which I hope she will.

I am beginning to be tremendously cheered up the way America is getting into this thing and there certainly seems to be ground at least for hope. At one time the outlook was certainly poor enough. The fine summer weather too helps. For certainly France in the summer is the most heavenly place I can think of. The mere thought tho, of another winter makes my shiver all over and turn blue. If ever this blooming war ends I am coming back here with all of you some May and stay until October. Then tho, we will go somewhere there is more heat and light.

This is about all now, Mother. If only we will stay in one place for a little while I may begin to get caught up on my writing.

With love
Paul