LETTERS FROM THE FRONT, Part 4: 1918 Italy

A letter from Emmett to his mother explains his decision to transfer to the Italian Front:

From: E.H. Shaw

Am. Red Cross

5 rue Francois Premier, Paris

Italian Service

Section 4

January 15, 1918

My dear Mother,

I received a letter from you today which was written Dec. 18. I am awfully sorry that you are so put out because I haven’t come home.

You are not a pacifist, are you? Don’t you realize that there is a terrible lot of work to be done over here before Germany can be brought to terms and that there are very few men to do it. Perhaps you can understand the situation better when I tell you that France is talking of calling out her men up to 50 yrs., and England up to 46. Germany seems stronger than ever and America seems terribly slow and unorganized.

When things get so bad that 50 yr. old men have to step into the ring, I hardly have the nerve to calmly turn my back on the whole affair, I, who am barely 23 and healthy. I swear I would feel like an awful quitter if I came home now.

The U.S army may not need me – they have more men than they can handle already and I admit I did waste some weeks trying to land a commission (illegible) which might have been spent to better advantage elsewhere in view of the scarcity of man-power; -- but then, I figure a shoulder-strap is always worth a little effort.

The U.S. army having seen fit to reject me, however, I now feel that I am free to go where men are needed most (Believe me, the other armies aren’t rejecting men.) and I think that place is right here in France or Italy, not in America, three thousand miles from the fight.

If I were self-supporting, I would join the Foreign legion. They are reorganizing just at present and lots of boys are joining—boys like myself, who have been turned down by U.S.A because of physical reasons or otherwise. But the Foreign Legion pays its soldiers nothing, in fact it doesn’t even equip them properly --- so I figure the next best bet is Italy with the Red cross. They need men and it seems like wonderful work.

Surely you agree with me about this coming home proposition. The fight is here in Europe and I’d rather be where the fight is than 3,000 miles away—in the 1^st place it’s much more interesting—and above all, being here—I don’t want to turn and beat it away just as the crisis seems to be approaching.

I hope you agree with me.

Your loving son,

Emmett

p.s. I thought I was writing you often.
                                        ***
An excerpt from DRINKING COMPANIONS I HAVE KNOWN:

The Italians had recently suffered a terrible defeat losing many divisions and much material, and retreating 150 kilometers from Caparetto to the Piave river. The Allies were doing everything they could to bolster their shaken morale. We secured brand new Fiat Ambulances from the factory at Turin and drove across Northern Italy by way of Milan and Verona to Schio.

Scott Russell and Larry Fisher were my drinking companions on this trip. They had both driven ambulances at the French front and in the Balkans. Russ was a great red wine drinker while Larry preferred cognac or champagne. At Milan we were joined by a group of new recruits fresh from the States. Among these recruits was an old gray-haired cattleman from Yakima, Washington, by the name of George Harris, also a young reporter from Chicago called Ernest Hemingway. We who had served in France were at first very loathe to accept these recruits as equals. Old George, however, soon proved himself to be an excellent drinking companion. Hemingway was badly wounded in the leg during the Austrian attack on the Piave and spent many months in the hospital at Milan. No one realized that he would one day be famous. A Farewell To Arms must have been brewing that summer while Russ and Larry and George Harris and I were peacefully drinking.

I shall never forget one weekend that Larry and I spent at Monza drinking Asti-Spumenti (sic) beneath the trees.    TO BE CONTINUED...