James Kellogg Burnham Hockaday letter to I.O. - August 28, 1918
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August 28, 1918. My Dear I.O. : - I have at last found time to drop a few lines. This summer seems to be over all of a sudden. It really does not seem any time since we were eating together back there in old N.Y. at Rector, but oh my! how much has happened!! Well, I can tell you now that I am right in the thick of it. I have been dodging shells, breathing through gas masks, and making myself as little and inconspicuous
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as possible when travelling across “no man’s land” at night. - These Boch certainly have a wonderful set of fireworks which they let loose every night. All colored rockets, golden showers, and bright stars which they shoot up every few minutes and and light up the ground for a thousand or more yards around. I was out last night and it was quite clear. Besides the many rockets, etc, the aeroplanes were flying over head and fired those flaming bullets. Every now and then when the Boch would get a notion they would let loose with a few salvos of artillery
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and then is when yours truly would hug the ground. I have never loved old Mother Earth so hard as I do when shells are sailing over me. Some would break pretty close, too damn close, and pieces of them would whistle back over me. You are fairly safe, only fairly safe, from shell fire if you got down flat on the ground in time. You can hear the shell as it whistles through the air for quite a while before it lights. After awhile you can judge about where it will break. This all sounds very thrilling but it is all very true. The fellow who says it is wonderful amusement and sport to stand out in a front line trench
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and listen to the shells whistle and busts around you, is nothing but a damn fool and you can doubt seriously whether he has really been in it. After you get back, it is fun to talk it over but while you are up there it is Hell. We will never be satisfied until the Hun is off of the map that will certainly be a glorious day. As I wrote Father in my last letter, I am now with Brigade Headquarters. I am in command of the Headquarters Detachment and also liaison officer from Brigade to Division Headquarters. I have to keep Division Head-
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quarters informed of everything that happens in my Brigade, as to disposition & functions of fighting groups, machine guns, artillery, etc. This means that I have to be in the lines practically all of the time. It is much more broadening than my position of platoon leader as now I have to know everything along the whole brigade front instead of just along my little platoon sector. I am over trying to find out as much as I can about the enemy front lines in front of my brigade sector also. I also have the pleasure of meeting the commanding officers of the artillery
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and Machine guns, etc. This keeps me pretty busy as you can see, but I have many exciting times and also have met many very fine officers. I gave up my position as platoon leader rather reluctantly however, as it is pretty hard to leave a bunch of men you have trained and who you know will do anything for you. There is one thing that these damned Huns ought to be ashamed of and that is the gas which they fight with now and then. I hope we give them their own medicine every chance we get. I was starting
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out from my own trenches with a raiding party a while ago when the Huns began shelling the lower end of the valley for all they were worth with the mustard gas. It drifted up the valley so we had to call the raid off for the night. The gas masks are sure protection against all gas, but unless you know the smell of gas it is hard to tell when you are in it. My company lost more than any other but my platoon did not loose a man except one and that was by shrapnel. I think this speaks pretty good for discipline especially as
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there wasn’t an officer with them. The sergeants had command. I suppose you remember Lieutenant Cox and Lieutenant Topping who tented with me at Camp Mills and whom you thought was such fine fellows They were both badly gassed I hope not fatally. Of course we are fighting now and we all realize that some of us have to go. It is in line of duty, however, and is expected to a certain extent. If we stopped to mourn and sympathize, we would lose all of our morale and never accomplish our task. Of course I can’t tell how many were hurt nor
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how many fatalities there were, but we could hardly keep the men who were left from going over and skinning those damned huns alive. Don’t worry at all about me. It is not so deadly up here as one would think. Last week they sent over thousands of shells and only got one man. All kinds of exciting aeroplane scraps take place right over our headquarters. I just got through watching the Boch bring down one of our observation balloons but we got one of his planes. I wish I could get some more letters. I get one from Mother now and then. I also received one from Aunt Jessie.
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I got one from you some time ago, but I haven’t received one from Father yet nor Junior. Send me some pictures, photographs, of everyone, especially in K.C. I see the home papers every now and then. They are a month late but most interesting. I kind of get an idea of what is happening or what has happened by reading the society column. It really seems funny to read about Fran Fennelly, Mary Yeomans, Ruth Flower, Betty Smith away over here in a Front line trench. It doesn’t seem possible that I am so far away. I don’t see much about any boys there, I suppose most are away
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at school or war. I certainly enjoyed that letter of Junior’s telling about his course at Culver. I am going to write him at once. I suppose he will be home and going to school by the time he gets my letter. Well so long, I.O., old top, write me often. Give my best to all the boys & gals. Don’t think it is all so serious over here. I think God that no matter how low down a Yank may feel, he always has a bit of humor left. I have never laughed so hard in all my life as I have at the experiences I have had and stories I have heard. I shall have a heap to tell when I get back. Don’t allow my letters to be
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published (as I might get into trouble.) I have the censor seal stamp here at Brigade Headquarters so I can get away with a little more than usual. Much love to you and give my love to Mother, Father, & Junior. Write often - Burnie. My address now J.K.B. Hockaday, 1st Lieut. - Inf. N. A. 177 Brigade Headquarters A.P.O. #761 A. E. F.
Details
| Title | James Kellogg Burnham Hockaday letter to I.O. - August 28, 1918 |
| Creator | Hockaday, James Kellogg Burnham |
| Source | Hockaday, James Kellogg Burnham. Letter to I.O. 28 August 1918. Hockaday Collection, 1917-1924. 1986.213.32. National World War I Museum, Kansas City, Missouri. |
| Description | In a letter dated August 28, 1918, Hockaday writes his brother I.O. and discusses the time they spent together in New York, no-mans land, gas attacks, airplane fights, and times in Kansas City. |
| Subject LCSH | United States. Army. Infantry regiment, 354th; World War, 1914-1918--Chemical warfare; World War, 1914-1918--Artillery operations; Saint-Mihiel, Battle of, Saint-Mihiel, France, 1918; World War, 1914-1918--Censorship; World War, 1914-1918--Trench warfare; |
| Site Accession Number | 1986.213.32 |
| Contributing Institution | National World War I Museum and Memorial |
| Copy Request | Transmission or reproduction of items on these pages beyond that allowed by fair use requires the written permission of the National World War I Museum and Memorial: (816) 888-8100. |
| Rights | The text and images contained in this collection are intended for research and educational use only. Duplication of any of these images for commercial use without express written consent is expressly prohibited. |
| Date Original | August 28, 1918 |
| Language | English |