The following letter originally appeared in the September 6th, 1918 issue of the Lebanon News.
"Somewhere in France, July 10.
Dearest homefolks:
As to this being the 10th or not I do not know, but as to "somewhere in France" it certainly is. Wish I could could tell you just where I am. Anyhow, with three others, I am away from my company doing duty. At last the base censor has opened its heart and we are allowed to tell everything from the time we sailed up until about a month ago. So here she goes.
On the morning of October 18th we broke camp and landed in Hoboken, N. J., that evening and later in the day we said goodbye to dear old U. S. A. Had a nice trip coming over in spite of some of the boys getting sick. The name of the ship we came over on is the Covington, which was formerly a German vessel. There were 3,700 of us on this ship. After 14 days on water we finally landed at St. Nozare about daylight. I was on guard on the top deck. Can you picture how I looked. We remained on the ship for seven days then marched out to a string of freight cars for our next journey and my, my, how it was raining, but who cares for it to rain here? We piled into those cars like a bunch of sheep and were in them for two days and nights, landing in a small town by the name of Caucouleurs. This little place is something the size of Lebanon, but of course didn't remind me of Lebanon one bit. We stayed here until late in the fall, then started on a ninety mile hike. Don't remember names of all the towns we passed through. Orquevaux is the name of the town where we spent Xmas. After freezing to death two or three times we next landed in Rolamponts, where the boys met us with our horses. We stayed here up until the latter part of February when we boarded another freight train for Baccarat. Well, I had a time on this trip - got all mixed up and got away from my Company and had four horses hung to my throbbing heart. At last one night about one o'clock they stopped the train and said this is where you get off. Well, I did and my Company wasn't there. I put my saddle and bridle in another train, right a straddle of one those horses, and rode it until ten o'clock and as luck would have it, rode into Baccarat, where I found my Company. In this town is the largest glass factory in the world. This place is about the size of Abingdon, if not larger. Here is where we were when Hargis said the report of the guns jared him out of bed but he l----- a little but in times gone by there had been bombs dropped on this town - the main part or center was torn all to pieces. We have been through towns that the whole place was ruined, no one living there at all.
If I was back with the Company where I could see my map I could write three times this much, but would have to have more paper. Will write more next time in regard to our travels. This is the first opportunity to write since leaving Baccarat about a month ago, and we are a long ways from there now.
Yesterday while on duty a big wild hog came running across the field and I jumped into a shell hole and layed down. I wanted to shoot it with my pistol but there was an old French man with me and he said wait until I get my rifle, so he came back from his dug-out with the gun and then I shot him once and he fell over the but Frenchman said shoot him again, and I did again and again. It was the largest wild hog I have seen over here. We are going to have a feast tonight. Don't you want some pork?
Haven't heard from Frank yet, but had a card from Carroll Gray a few days ago.
Hoping you are all well, and best regards to everybody, I am,
Your son,
PETE SHOEMAKER"
