SIPES, Jason V. – (1894-1960) eagerly enlisted to fight in the Great War. The letters he wrote home were published in the Frenchtown Star by his father.
Here are a couple of samples:
Sept. 19, 1917
Dear Mother:
Am just writing a few lines to let you know I am well.
We are now under a heavy drill of 8 hours per day and learning the signal corps and war signs, etc. The exercises are strenuous. Have lots of blankets to keep warm, but this is a cold spot here on Long Island.
We just got our 48 caliber revolvers today and they are fine.
Aeroplanes are still flying, turning somersaults in the air. We take a bath every two days for inspection. When the grapes get ripe, send me a few bunches. The candy Marie sent was great.
A fellow fainted here and they carried him out of the tent and he soon came to.
Tell Olive I will answer her letter as soon as possible. Is Horace catching any fish?
We are learning to use our machine guns which we are going to use in France soon. So many to each Co. shooting 500 to 600 per minute. That will be a good many rabbits, won't it?
I was in N.Y. the other night and I certainly could shoot with a rifle, breaking everything I shot at. He gave me a prize for being the best shot in front of the stand.
The worst thing is getting up so early in the morning, but I am now used to it. Any of you come down and see me and I will show you around our camp.
Hoping to hear from you before long, I remain
Lovingly, your affectionate son,
JASON
Co. L, 149th Machine Gun Battalion
Camp Mills
Mineola, Long Island
* * *
March 27, 1918
My Dear Mother:
It is now 10 o'clock here in France, and I am writing you a few lines to let you know I feel quite well and only hope everybody is at home. The war seems to last well. As soon as it is over I will see you one and all as soon as I can sail for America, which is the best country of all.
It is raining today and getting colder. They all might be glad they are not over here fighting, as it isn't what it's “cracked up to be;” but you know I am a lucky boy. It takes brave lads to march to war like we did.
The grass is getting green over here. I had potatoes, bread, molasses and bacon for breakfast this morning. Fried eggs would taste good. I could eat 2 dozen if I had them.
Much love to all. Good-bye.
Your affectionate son,
JASON V. SIPES
149th Machine Gun Battalion
American Expeditionary Force
Passed as censored by Lieut. Wheelock
* * *
Jason, who had a compact build, “survived by hiding in a hollow tree while the Germans were going through,” wrote Judy Drake in 2019. She had learned that from her grandmother, Jason's sister Marie.
Jason wrote home that he had been gassed three times on the Verdun front, experiencing both chlorine and mustard gas, and had been in the hospital several times.
At war's end, Jason's letters home were jubilant, but he was not well. By July of 1919, he was in New Jersey in the Camp Merritt hospital in Bergen County and was then transferred to the National Soldiers Home in Virginia where he was treated for shell shock and the effects of poison gas. In November, his father reported that Jason was back home, working at the Star and in “fair health,” and the 1920 Census gives his occupation as “typesetter.” But from at least 1927 to 1930 he was living in the state hospital in Trenton.
Jason, unable to live independently, eventually moved in with sister Marie and her husband, Art Schaible, on Route 29. He would walk into town most days and eat at Jim Agnew's restaurant and loiter silently on street corners.
“Jason passed away when I was a child,” Drake wrote. “I remember him as a sweet, quiet man with a smile for his great-niece. His head was usually hung low. I remember his blue eyes.”
Gloria Sipes Paleveda wrote: “I never knew my Uncle Jason before he enlisted in the Army in WWI. I had always been told by my parents that he had been an intelligent man, a man with a good sense of humor, a young man who had a ladyfriend, and man who had a future. But mustard gas wrote a different ending.
“The only Uncle Jason that I knew, was the small man standing on the corner of Bridge and Race… He would stand there for hours, unspeaking, clutching newspapers to his frail chest, with his head hung low.”
Drake wrote, “I donated Jason’s Army coat and hat to the New Jersey State Museum, and the curator did some research and told me that Jason’s Rainbow Division was in the worst battles in late September into early November of 1918. It was the battle of Meuse-Argonne. The weather was bitter cold with a lot of rain, and the men were without enough food, shelter, proper clothing (and there was) heavy loss of life.”
When Jason died, he left an estate worth about $43,000, which caused Judge Philip Gethardt to praise brother Fred's 43-year management of Jason's finances. “This sort of thing happens very, very rarely – that real care is given to a ward and an estate is well taken care of.”
From "Rick's Frenchtown Encyclopedia"
Comments