Thursday, November 11, 2010

Bob and Arthur Noble-- World War I


Brothers
Robert
&
Arthur
Noble
These two young men are my uncle, Sgt. Robert Ross Noble and my father Arthur Zumwalt Noble as they looked, in uniform, during the Great War--The War to End War--WWI. My dad is the one at the top of the page.
I have 80 letters that my dad wrote to his mother during his time in the service. During his tour of duty overseas he was careful not to worry her by writing about the horrible conditions he lived in and the terrible things he saw. However, it was possible to read between the lines and realize that life was far from pleasant.
My uncle Bob was wounded and taken to a hospital in France. His mother was notified and let her son Arthur know about it in a letter. Apparently she expressed her concern for her older boy and my dad replied that this was the best news he had heard in a long time. Arthur's company was behind Bob's division as they moved across the battlefront. There were many fresh graves along the route. Arthur told his mother that he was scared to death to look at the markers fearing that one might bear his brother's name, but he couldn't bring himself to walk past without checking.
Dad told me of one incident that he made into a joke on himself. When you think about it, the picture it paints of their his living conditions is far from a laughing matter. He woke up one morning with an arm lying across his face. Immediately assuming it was a severed limb belonging to some other soldier, he grabbed it and gave it a hard throw. Then he realized it was his own arm that had fallen asleep during the night. He laughed and said he nearly dislocated his shoulder.
I'm going to share a few paragraphs from a letter Dad wrote on November 13, 1918. The envelope that contained the letter is below, showing the censor stamp.
Dearest Mother, Will write you a few lines this evening to let you know I'm still well & happy.
Mother, day before yesterday was sure a wonderful day. I can't very well express my feelings, but it sure seemed good when those guns quit shooting. The big ones fired over our heads day and night and when they go off it shakes the ground just like an earthquake.
Course this is just an armistice so far, but you can bet your boots we know the end is near and then it's back home again. Whoops ma Dear!
At least the majority of the boys have changed their phrase now, from if I get back, to when I get back. Sure sounds good.
I guess I won't get to see Bobbie over here. I wrote to him twice, but haven't heard from him yet. That's nothing strange though, as it takes almost as long to get a letter from anybody over here as it does to get one from the States. I don't know why, but it's generally the case.
Well good-bye, hope to see you before many moons. With lots of love from Arthur.



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