I Remember

My paternal grandfather served in WW1 with his brother Leon, his future wife's twin brother and another future brother in law. Small town Doughboys thrust into the horror that was trench warfare. His trench knife speaks rather strongly to the day to day threats and brutality faced by these brave, young men. Grandpa spoke only once to me about his time in France, a terrifying story of being stuck alone in No Mans Land for one endlessly chilling night. Nothing more, never a mention, but he marched proudly every year on Memorial Day. Son of a Civil War veteran, from a longline of patriots, he carried on. Perhaps it was the loss of his brother so close to the end of the war at the battle of St. Mihel that sealed and silenced his lips.

Oct 4, 1918
Dear folks at home-

Before this letter arrives you all will have received the sad letter of Leon's death. Early morning of Oct.1 he was wounded and died about 20 minutes after in the first aid station. At first the only injury that could be found was in his leg, and had hopes he would pull through with only the loss of the leg. But he was hurt inside and it was too much for him to stand. He was conscious when he was first picked up, but did not recognize me. I was not on the same front with him, but not a great ways away from him. We got a fearful bombardment and a shell landed too close.

It is a hard blow to all of us, and it is a great deal harder for you than me. I have been through so much and seen so much , I realized a thing like this could happen...


In 1978, my grandfather's last summer, I visited the battlefields in France where he was entrenched and mired in mud. The land has recovered and the cemetery where Leon rested before coming home in 1921 was one of the most beautiful spots on earth. Thankfully, I was able to share my photographs with Grandpa before he left us too.

All we are saying is give peace a chance...