Hotel Stanley, Hutchinson, Kans. Thursday 12:50 A.M. November 11, 1926
Dear Bess:
I don't believe I told you how good your letter looked to me at Dodge City. I felt rather sheepish to have you worrying so about me when I never had had more fun, felt better or had been more courteously and cordially received. I almost grabbed the first train home. I want to see you and my daughter so badly.
We had a fine dinner at the Harvey House at Dodge and left there at 7:30 arriving here at 11:55. I couldn't go to bed without talking to you and I was afraid if I called up you'd think I was killed or something and so I'll just write.
This is Armistice Day. Eight years ago, if I remember rightly, I was up figuring a barrage to fire on Hermevile and Grimaoucourt down in front of Verdun. I fired at 3:00 A.M. and 4:00 A.M., and at 5:30 A.M. old "Pat" (Paterson) called up from Klemm's headquarters and told me that the firing would probably cease at 11:00 A.M. because he had been reliably informed that Foch had signed an armistice to take effect then, but for me not to tell anyone. I think he did every captain the same way. I went on and fired 163 more rounds through the fog and then sure enough at 11:00 A.M. it turned out to be true. Sermon called and said cease firing. I hadn't fired any since 9:00 A.M., but an old French 155 (6-inch) Battery behind me kept right on right up to 11:00 A.M., shooting as hard as they could just to be shooting. The commander said because they had beaucoup ammunition.
Then a few days after that I got a letter from you saying you'd nearly died with the flu and I felt just as I did at Dodge this morning. I hadn't suffered much except loss of sleep and worry for my outfit and here nearly all I had in the world was nearer the great divide than I'd ever been because I never believed my name was on a bullet.
The sun came through the fog right at 11 A.M. for the first time in months (since August I believe) and shined as fine as you please for an hour or two. Everything got so still it made us figity. All we could do was gap and grin and look at each other. If I'd had the wherewithal I'd surely have fallen off the wagon but I didn't.
I am ashamed now that I didn't stay at home and fight the job hunters and take you to see the queen. I'm afraid I'm not as thoughtful of your pleasure as I ought to be. If ever I can connect, you'll never want to do anything you can't. Kiss the baby. I wish I could hear her say "Lo Dad."
All the love to you,
Your Harry