In the fall of 1918, as the Meuse-Argonne Offensive raged across northeastern France, letters from soldiers offered families back home in Pennsylvania’s Coal Region both comfort and anguish.
In Shenandoah, PA, a mining town in Schuylkill County, the Evening Herald published the words of Bugler Joseph A. Nicholas of Company E, 315th Infantry Regiment, 79th Division, United States Army.
Just 26 years old, Nicholas had been wounded by German machine-gun fire in the opening days of the Argonne campaign and found himself confined to an American base hospital, writing home to reassure his mother.
Nicholas’s words carried the tone of so many letters penned from the Western Front of the First World War: frank descriptions of pain, exhaustion, and discouragement balanced by determination and gratitude to have survived.
He told his mother of his shattered leg, stitched wounds, and the endless rain in France, yet also of the pride he felt going “over the top” with his comrades in one of the most decisive battles of the Great War.
For readers in Schuylkill County, where nearly every family had a son, brother, or neighbor in uniform, his letter was both sobering and hopeful, even as it was published weeks after the war had come to an end on November 11, 1918.
The Argonne was America’s largest battle of World War I, with more than 1.2 million U.S. soldiers engaged and 26,000 killed.
From the Shenandoah Evening Herald, November 29, 1918:
LOCAL BOY, WOUNDED, TELLS OF EXPERIENCE
Bugler Joseph A. Nicholas, Company E, 315th Infantry, American Base Hospital, No. 11. A. P.0. 767. A. E. F., who was wounded in battle in France, writes to his mother, Mrs. Vincent Azarewica, an interesting letter.
He is a popular young man and letter will be read with interest by his many friends. He says in part:
“I am lying wounded in an American base hospital. I was wounded September 29th, a Sunday morning. and underwent an operation October 1st.
Today, October 20th, makes three weeks for me in the hospital. I have been in four different hospitals since I was wounded. I was hit by a machine gun bullet through the left leg, between the knee and ankle going through my leg and fracturing the bone, putting my leg in bad shape.
So here I am, mother, with my leg slung up on ropes and not able to turn one way or the other. It’s so tiresome lying here on my back. I ought to consider myself lucky though that I did not get it worse than I did. I wish I could explain to you what one has to go through in this terrible war, but it’s all in the life of a soldier.
Anyway it happened and I am glad to say that I had the pleasure of going over the top with the rest of the boys. We went over the top on the morning of the [censored], our regiment being very successful. In those three days chased the Huns back 27 miles. We were occupying a famous sector on the front line.
Just now I am located in the western part of France. Since I have been here it rained two days out of every three: in fact it is always raining.
This is Sunday afternoon, just three weeks, and it has been raining all day. A day like this my leg pains me more than ever. I get so discouraged at times and certainly wish I was back in the dear old U.S.A. with you all.
By the looks of things the Germans are about done for.
Concerning myself I don’t know how things are going to go with me. By the looks of things I’ll be out of the game I guess for a couple of months anyway and I do not know how my leg will turn out after that. Next week I understand I am to undergo another operation. They have to stitch my leg and then put it in casts, so you see I am up against it.
The wound on my left leg on the inside is twelve inches long and on the outside about eight inches. You see, mother, it would not heal unless it was sewed up, therefore I got to go under ether again. It makes me sick when I think of it, for I hate ether worse than I do an operation.
The treatment at the hospital is fine. There are 50 patients in this ward. The Captain of ward, who is our doctor, is a fine man and knows his business.”
At this point the young soldier’s strength failed and he stopped writing until he regained strength. He further says:
“I have gotten some strength together to continue on with this letter. I was to finish it the next day but here it is Friday, October 25th. Mother, I have been feeling pretty bad these past few days, being troubled with rheumatism.
You know how I suffered with it before. I haven’t had my leg stitched up yet. The doctor dressed me today and said I was getting along fine. He also said in a day or two I will have my wound sewed up. The weather today is fair.
It is getting colder now. I haven’t received a letter from home since being over here, but hope to get mail soon. It is now about five o’clock and near supper time, so will have to close.
How is Dad getting along? I hope he is well.
With love to you and kindest wishes to all my friends, I am, your loving son,
Joseph A. Nicholas.”
Nicholas was one of the lucky ones – he survived his wound, endured long hospital stays, and was discharged in March 1919. Returning to civilian life, he lived quietly for six more decades, passing away in 1979 at the age of 87.
He is buried in St. Peter’s Roman Catholic Cemetery in Philadelphia.
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