Feb. 1, 1915.
Dear Paul:
Received your letter this morning, was certainly glad to hear from you, also to receive the twenty francs. There is a farm here that is stocked up with chocolate, cheese, etc., and all of us have been feeding up, so you can see the money was greatly appreciated. The English left this morning. I was given the option of going or staying, and it may have been I am foolish, but I stayed. I figured that I came over to join with France and had stuck it out five months, so might as well continue. If you can get me into a regular regiment, that will be fine. The reason I keep writing you not to come back here is because I know that you are not able to stand it, and then there is no romance or anything to the infantry. It is not a question of bravery, it is a question of being a good day laborer. So if you don’t want to leave the service, get into something that requires education and not brute strength. I personally am stronger than I have ever been in my life, but without one exception I am the only one. “Cap,” Krogh, and all the fellows we thought strong have gone backward and been sick a lot. Out of the eighteen men of the Ninth Squad, there are only six of us in it now: myself, “Cap,” Seeger, Dowd, Krogh and Nilson, who returned yesterday but who we all know will not be able to stick more than three or four weeks, owing to his stomach. Zinn has been put in the Mitrailleuses.
As far as fighting goes, we are always in danger of our lives but don’t get a chance to protect ourselves, as this is mostly an artillery war. Of course, the infantry sometimes does fierce fighting, but seldom, and I believe it possible to go through the war without ever taking part in the kind of fighting we imagined we would do. You take a few days ago: a battle was raging on every side of us, and we were in a very advanced position. Our artillery near us did the most damage of any. It simply raked the valley, yet we didn’t fire a shot. We sat with our rifles in our hands underground, ready to go out any minute and fight, but that was all. Well, I must go to work, so will close.
Love,
Kiffin.
Young Towle left with the English, a good riddance.