Kenneth Spencer Research Library

In honor of the centennial of World War I, we’re going to follow the experiences of one American soldier: nineteen-year-old Forrest W. Bassett, whose letters are held in Spencer’s Kansas Collection. Each Monday we’ll post a new entry, which will feature selected letters from Forrest to thirteen-year-old Ava Marie Shaw from that following week, one hundred years after he wrote them.

Forrest W. Bassett was born in Beloit, Wisconsin, on December 21, 1897 to Daniel F. and Ida V. Bassett. On July 20, 1917 he was sworn into military service at Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis, Missouri. Soon after, he was transferred to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for training as a radio operator in Company A of the U. S. Signal Corps’ 6th Field Battalion.

Ava Marie Shaw was born in Chicago, Illinois, on October 12, 1903 to Robert and Esther Shaw. Both of Marie’s parents – and her three older siblings – were born in Wisconsin. By 1910 the family was living in Woodstock, Illinois, northwest of Chicago. By 1917 they were in Beloit.

Frequently mentioned in the letters are Forrest’s older half-sister Blanche Treadway (born 1883), who had married Arthur Poquette in 1904, and Marie’s older sister Ethel (born 1896).

This week’s entry highlights include Forrest learning how to erect and operate a field wireless station (“every man must be on the alert and be there with the team-work”) and how to pack it on mules (“the latter are the real Missouri article”). Bassett also struggles with his long distance relationship with Marie, writing that “I will never see you until I come home for good, and that is a long time — at least a year ahead…I am hungry for a sight of you — to look into those soft brown eyes, and hear you talk again.”

Click images to enlarge.

Wed. Aug. 8, 1917

Dear Little Girl,

Every time I read your letters you seem so close that I want to reach out and hug you tight. I wish you were that near, but your letters are a great deal of comfort to me, and I hope you wont let even a day slip by. I don’t feel homesick any more, among these fellows, but just that longing for you. It may be a long time before we see each other again, but don’t ever forget how much I love you, and don’t ever doubt it, whatever may turn up.

Everything seems to point out that we go to the East coast headquarters about Sept. 15th. We are working hard — tonight we even drilled after supper during a rain. This morning we had telegraph one hour, wig-wag one hour, and two hours of drill at erecting and operating a field wireless station. The latter is carried on two pack mules. An efficient company can unpack and set up a fifty foot mast and get the set in order in a very few minutes. Every man must be on the alert and be there with the team-work. It is the same with everything and it sure interesting work. We also had an hour of squad drill this morning. Our drill after supper was in forming a company square. In this, the company forms a four sided guard about its officers in the center. In case of attack, like a riot, the men face out and protect their leaders. There are many different marching commands that a solider has to learn to execute in the proper way and at the right instant. In walking lockstep, the soldier’s forward foot had to step ahead of the next man’s rear foot. In order to do this, one has to walk like a Dana. Can you imagine how awkward it is for me? As I said before, we a  a good decent bunch of officers, and that helps a lot. We have finished with our shelter tent drills, and the tents are shipped — East, I guess. This afternoon we learned how to pack a field wireless set on the mules. The latter are the real Missouri article and have to be fitted with blinders while being packed. We were just issued some fancy dress gloves of soft olive drab leather. We have to be very particular about our personal appearance — no watch fobs or tips of a handkerchief are allowed to show, and everything must be kept scrubbed clean. Our beds must be made just so and our lockers fixed in a certain way. This all sounds old maidish, but it is simply meant to have everything look the same.

Each of us had to take our turn at serving in the kitchen. I haven’t yet, but have served my day as orderly. Of course we all have our own “housework” to do before first drill call at seven o’clock. A bachelor’s life may be a gay one but give me a good home with a little girl in it. Well the “Lights Out” bugle has just blown so I will have to quit.

Thurs. P.M.

Biting your fingernails — I sure am glad that you have rooted out this little weed of weakness. Isn’t it a “grand and glorious feeling” when one’s better (or plus) self wins one of these little scraps with your “minus” self. It takes a long time before you really realize how important these little victories are.

I got a fine letter from your Mother yesterday. Your letter from Field’s came today. Did you get mine? I hope you will have the best of good times in Chicago. I can’t help but feel glad that you are just the least bit lonesome. My folks sure will have a new cousin to be proud of if I have my way about it.

I know I can’t ask you to always like me, but I do ask you to promise to tell me when you feel the least change.

Please don’t show my letters to anyone, especially Lauretta. She is one mighty fine girl but her heart stopped growing long before yours did. (If it has.)

She would laugh and say “O Slush” like you do.

But I think you will understand that I am trying to make you feel how much I do care for you.

Yours, Forrest.

Sat. Aug. 11, 1917

Dear Marie,

Won’t you please “open your heart” and take a chance on my understanding? I will never see you until I come home for good, and that is a long time — at least a year ahead. Please sit on my lap again and tell me everything. I wonder if you think my letters are too “soft” like Edgar & Grace? Do you? Mother sent me the pictures of you eating cherries and the in the canoe with the duck. I can picture you perfectly in your new clothes. Gee, but I am hungry for a sight of you — to look into those soft brown eyes, and hear you talk again. Wont you please talk to me as if we were together? I am going to wait one more week and then I am going to go to the Battallion commander, Moore, and ask him to transfer me to the photo-graphic section of the Signal Corps. Whether I leave here right away, or in six weeks, don’t count on seeing me again till the finish. I wonder why you call yourself my friend. Have you found that you can’t be a little more than that to me? Dear Little Girl, please be perfectly frank with me in everything. You can’t imagine how much I hate any kind of pretense.

We passed the hat here this afternoon and bought a 25 Victor with some records. About 45 of us bunk in this room so we expect to get a good bunch of records. This morning the fourth & fifth sections of Co. A 6th helped unload a shipment of saddle horses and pack mules from El Paso, Texas. Believe me it was a lively job to lead that bunch, two at a time, from the cars to the corral. One fellow from Co.B-6th was sent to the hospital with a mule’s “thumbprint” on his chest. We were off this afternoon so I went to Leavenworth City, which is little larger than Beloit. A lot of fellows went to Kansas City for over Sunday. I am pretty near broke again as I won’t get last month’s pay until September. Blanche sent me some stamps — will you feel peeved if I pass some on to you? I don’t think your Mother will mind very much because you spoke on the stage. Congratulations etc. Now you will have to stop biting you nails.

I got Vera’s card alright. And yours too, today. Did Lauretta get my letter? Be sure to tell me soon enough when you Chi. so none of my letters will there after your gone.

Yours,
Forrest

Sunday, Aug. 12, 1917

Dear Marie,

I only have time for a short note tonight but want to write so you won’t forget to write me. That’s the one big favor you can do me while I’m away. Did you like Riverview? I sure do wish I could be there with you. You and Vera must have had about the same luck on the “Chute the Chutes” as we did on the Giant dips when the car jumped the track. Here’s hoping you and L. will have a gay time Tuesday night. I am glad Lauretta interested you in hiking — go to it. You can bet we will go bike riding, too, when I get back. Gee but I get tired of saying “when I get back.” No danger of any hiking ever “killing” you. But don’t try any of Lauretta’s tricks. She carries it too far – nothing is gained by breaking one’s arch.

Also, hiking is not worth while unless you really do like it. I do hope you will learn to swim. Did you get the wings O.K? How was the Lake? The last time I was in was at Sheboygan. My folks would not treat you very nice unless they liked you pretty well, and I am mighty glad they do, but not a bit surprised.

What pleases me the most, though, is that Blanche likes you so much. She writes that you “have wrapped yourself around her heart” and that “you are a dear, sweet, Marie.” Blanche is no hypocrite and when she can say that in such a sincere way, I know I am make no mistake in loving you. Say how much does Blanche know anyway? She is one mighty fine sister and comes next to you in my regards, so you see I am pretty fond of her. Gee, but the postscript to your last letter, Sat. 11th, sure did stir up a happy feeling here. I wonder if you write that way just to “cheer me up.” Don’t do it again if that’s it. I do need to be cheered a little though, for I am all out-o-luck. Starting with this morning I have take my turn in the mess hall for a week, “slinging hash” to this crew of Signal men. I don’t have to wash any dishes but have to push the broom and mop and set the table etc.

All this from 5:15 A:M. until 7:15 P.M. Can you beat it? But then, everyone has to take a shot at it, except the officers. At noon, George Stock brought your letter down to me, but I didn’t get a chance to open it until about 3:00P.M.

Can you imagine how anxious I was to read it? Maybe — but you don’t know how happy I felt after I had read every word for the fourth time. So please write everyday if you can – at least until school starts.

The “lights out” bugle just blew and I had to go down in the basement to finish this. I know this writing is awful — Can you read it alright?

Yours,
Forrest

Meredith Huff
Public Services

In honor of the centennial of World War I, we’re going to follow the experiences of one American soldier: nineteen-year-old Forrest W. Bassett, whose letters are held in Spencer’s Kansas Collection. Each Monday we’ll post a new entry, which will feature selected letters from Forrest to thirteen-year-old Ava Marie Shaw from that following week, one hundred years after he wrote them.

Forrest W. Bassett was born in Beloit, Wisconsin, on December 21, 1897 to Daniel F. and Ida V. Bassett. On July 20, 1917 he was sworn into military service at Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis, Missouri. Soon after, he was transferred to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for training as a radio operator in Company A of the U. S. Signal Corps’ 6th Field Battalion.

Ava Marie Shaw was born in Chicago, Illinois, on October 12, 1903 to Robert and Esther Shaw. Both of Marie’s parents – and her three older siblings – were born in Wisconsin. By 1910 the family was living in Woodstock, Illinois, northwest of Chicago. By 1917 they were in Beloit.

Frequently mentioned in the letters are Forrest’s older half-sister Blanche Treadway (born 1883), who had married Arthur Poquette in 1904, and Marie’s older sister Ethel (born 1896).

Today’s first entry catches up with Forrest’s story and includes his letters from the previous week. Highlights include his instructions on how to swim (“always swim in the water“) and comments about a newspaper article predicting the “world coming to an end…this noon” (“I have no opinion to offer – it is the least of my troubles”).

Click images to enlarge.

Friday, July 27, 1917

Dear Marie,

I am going to be a Radio operator in the Company A, 6th Field Battallion, Signal Corps. Will study at Fort L. School. Will write Sat. or Sun.

Yours,
Forrest

Address
Forrest W. Bassett
Co. A, 6th Field Battalion
S.C.
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas

Click image to enlarge.

Sunday, July 29, 1917

Dear Marie,

Are you have a good time at home? I would like to be there for a few days. Sure miss the good times we had. Unless something serious turns up I will not see Beloit again until the end of the war. This is a fine place here. We have a fine bunch of fellows and good officers. I wish you would write. I only got your first letter. Tell me all about everything at home.

Your,
Forrest.

Wed. August 1, 1917

Dear Marie,

Your four letters from J. B. [Jefferson Barracks] are here ok. They sure stirred up some “happy feeling” alright. I wish I could have one every day. You would write that often if you know how glad I am to get them. We are getting the heavy work now and are pushed from rising call till bedtime. Today we were up at 5:15 and there were very few spare moments. We drilled until 8:00 tonight. We have regular infantry drill on top of the signal work. In the latter we have buzzer practise like you and I used to do and ‘wig-wag’ signaling in the field.

There are about six different means of communication that we must master. My partner in ‘wig-wag’ practise told me (by the flag signals) that he was a Minnesota man, head been a train dispatcher and had served in the army five years. He started to talk by asking me if I had heard the report about the world coming to an end. My arm is dead tired from waving my signal flag and I can hardly write. I guess I am the youngest man here. Almost all are over 25. They are starting classes in French language tonight. Our training is being rush as fast as possible. I went to the sergeant and asked him why I was assigned to the Radio Corps and he referred me to the Company Commander. I saw him but he told me to discuss it with the Battallion commander. I didn’t push it any further but last night the sergeant called me in the orderly room and questioned me pretty thoroughly on my past experience. I may get in the aerial photography yet. However I am well pleased with what I have now. This “stuff” is also a little safer than photography from aeroplanes.

They keep us on the jump but it certainly is interesting.

Mother says you look like a girl of 18 with you hair done up. I almost hate to think of you any different than you were when I last saw you. I am afraid after all that you will change in more ways than one before I come back. Please keep that diary and don’t skip even a day. Put down what you think as well as what you do. I will send you a picture when I get one of you, maybe. Don’t hesitate to tell me if there is anything I have that you can use.

Yours, Forrest

Tell you mother to write some more like her first one.

Believe me I sure enjoyed it.

No more time tonight but will write again tomorrow.

I got your letter with the world coming to an end clipping this noon.  I have no opinion to offer – it is the least of my troubles.

Thursday, Aug 2, 1917

Dear Marie,

I got two letters from you and one from Blanche today. Lauretta is a good kid alright; I’m glad you like her. I wish I were there to play “Sailor Boy’s Dream” with you. I would probably dutch it all up but we sure had some good fun that way. I’ll never forget the time we ate those cherries on the porch. Gee, but I’ll be glad to get back to you again but I’m not sorry that I’m making these sacrifices. I only hope you won’t change from the same big little-girl that you were. Please write as often as you can, and keep your diary.

I will do the best I can, but there are many odd little jobs to take care of after all the regular work & drill is done. We had an hour of wig-wag practice this morning and I talked with an Iowa railroad telegrapher. The ‘wig-wag’ is a method of talking in the field by means of flags. We always start up with conversation and tell about ourselves. This afternoon I practiced with a railroad telegrapher from Wisconsin. In the morning we had an hour of drill at fancy marching. We also had two hours of drill at pitching shelter tents. This afternoon we had a buzzer practise and our third lecture on doing guard duty. We have good officers here and everything is as good as one could expect. I pity those fellows that had to remain at Jefferson Barracks several weeks before being sent to their regular post. I may be transferred from here. This noon the sergeant told me to report to the commanding officer of the battalion. The latter asked me a lot of technical questions about lenses and cameras and I know I answered them correctly. He dismissed me without dropping any hints so I don’t know how I’ll come out. The nearest first class aviation camp is at Texas. They are going to start one in Kansas City too.

I hope I can see you before we leave. Maybe we can dope out some way. My friend George Stock started his French under a French lady last night. I am going to start next Monday but am going to try a University professor. This is not required. I don’t know what it will cost. The govts pays Sig. Corps men $30 a month and a $60 a year clothing allowance. We have to be careful and dress neatly and in clean clothes all the time. We have all of every Friday afternoon off to prepare for Saturday morning inspection. Believe me it’s ticklish business to get by the inspection officers. One’s hair has to be kept cut close but I am always going to keep mine that way, even when I get home. I only have to comb it about once a week when I used to do it at least three times a day. Suppose I’ll have to get acquainted all over again when you start wearing your hair done up and your heels upon spools. Mother gave you straight tip about finger nails and will power.  Did you notice how Lauretta bites hers. No you didn’t. Believe me if no one does anything worse than that, he needn’t worry about the end of the world. Did you and Lauretta go swimming? I told Mother to get the waterwings out for you.

Once more:

1. Always swim in the water.
2. Hold your breath until you learn to time your arms with your legs and keep afloat for a few strokes.
3. When you do breathes, always breathe out thru the nose and in through the mouth.
4. Be sure to time your breathing and every movement of your legs and arms. When this becomes instinctive (ouch) you can go to sleep on the job.
5. Take your time, and go easy.

Do you remember how I used to fuss about that? I sure do wish I could be with you. Each man had to swim a hundred yards in order to pass examination here. There are a few that will have to do some tall practising. Lot of them are 30 & 35 and never saw anything but a tub for 15 years.

I suppose the “sullies” will get us if we don’t watch out, but we may not even have to cross over to France. Things to worry about. The most I’ve got to worry about is a little brown eyed girl. I left out the “big” this time. Gee I don’t want you to be all grown up when I get back. But I don’t care if you are if something else doesn’t change.

Your’s, Forrest.

You will find any negatives you want in my negative file box.

Help yourself.

I wish I had printed one of you in the canoe and by the cherry tree.

Write soon and talk to me as if we were together. Please.

Monday, Aug. 3, 1917

Dear Marie,

I guess you don’t really know me after all. When you were in my arms, couldn’t you see in my eyes how much I care? How can I tell you in my letters that I will always love you and make you feel that I am honest and sincere? I have had lots of time for good sober thought, here, and I know it is your high character and big, warm heart that has won me so completely. There is not another girl on the map that would make me look twice after knowing you so well. Little girl, even if you go through High School and find out that  you can’t really love me, the influence you have had on me will have done its work and I will never be able to pay the debt I owe. Don’t believe all the good things that sister says of me. You know how it is. I didn’t have any idea Blanche did not know how much we are to each other.

Marie, even if I can’t have you, I will always think of you as a big warm hearted girl that understood, and trusted me so I couldn’t do very wrong. I hope I can have your pictures soon. Here is a post card of the Sixth Field Battalion on muster day. I am in the front rank with the arrow at my feet. I am wearing leather leggings and the men on each side have on white leggings. Now can you find me? All the men in the picture are in the 6th FB S.C. Some are telegraph men, some are telephone, but Co. A is all radio. We had quite an interesting period of radio practice this afternoon. Within fifty feet of our station there was a class of artillery officers with a big gun and range finding instruments. Last week we saw the engineers build a pontoon bridge across the small lake at the foot of our hill. I wish I could write to you oftener.  Sunday I worked all day from 6 o’clock AM til 6:45 PM and after I had scrubbed my leggings and taken a shower, I felt so tired that I hit the hay.

We sure will hike together if you really like it, and I hope you will. We had an inexperienced drill master this morning and he Dutched up everything. He would give his command of execution on the wrong count and then get sore because we got our feet all tangled up. Our regular sergeant was taking a special examination for officers.

Last Saturday at retreat roll call he asked if anyone in the ranks knew anything about the theory of gas engines. This stuff happens to be my specialty so I had the privilege of explaining how gasoline is converted into power in 2 and 4-cycle motors.

It was deep stuff but I got away with it OK. You see our wagon set generator for the field wireless is run by a four-cylinder gas engine, and that was part of his exam.

When you go back to school, will you write to me about your work and let me help you! Well there goes tattoo, which mean “lights out.”

Yours,
Forrest

I see I am a month behind on my date.

Click images to enlarge.

Monday, August 6, 1917

Dear Marie,

Your letter of Friday the third was certainly a gloom chaser. I did not get one yesterday nor today. I suppose you and Lauretta are on the skip every evening, but don’t forget to write and tell me everything – and be sure to keep your diary. I don’t care if you do wear your hair up, now. I would like to see you that way.

Here’s hoping Chicago will not make you forget one whose every thought is of you and you. I am going to keep that Friday letter with me always. It’s that thought of you that makes me put in my best licks every minute. I hope I will see you by the end of the month. Every one seems to think we leave for Monmouth, New Jersey about Sept. 15th.

About 70 men came in from San Francisco yesterday. I heard a company sing “On Wisconsin” and give some University yells, and believe me it sounded great. I am still in doubt about the aerial photography, but the sergeant said I may be called for any minute. This Radio Co. is a fine bunch and I will be satisfied to stick with it.

We had a lecture on Field Wireless sets, and one on military law today. I can receive about ten words a minute in the European code and am picking up fast. I am going to take my first French lesson tonight, and will have to close now. Be good to me and write.

Yours,
Forrest

Meredith Huff
Public Services

Each week we’ll be posting a photograph from University Archives that shows a scene from KU’s past. We’ve also scanned more than 34,800 images from KU’s University Archives and made them available online; be sure to check them out!

The new school year is just around the corner, but there’s still time for travel and vacation. When you go, be sure to take along some KU gear – just like the faculty members and their families in this week’s photograph did in 1921.

A group of KU faculty members with their wives and children in
Laguna Beach, California, 1921. University Archives Photos.
Call Number: RG 41/0 Faculty 1921 Prints (Photos).
Click image to enlarge (redirect to Spencer’s digital collections).

Back row: Frederick Billings.

Second Row: William Chase Stevens, Mrs. William C. [Ada E. Pugh] Stevens, Harriet Greissinger, Lucinda Griffith, Mrs. William A. [Ida Greeley Smith] Griffith, Carrie Watson, Jane Griffith, Mrs. Frederick [Louise M.] Billings, Mary Maud Smelser.

Front Row: Bertha Mae Billings, Ida Griffith Jr., Francis Billings.

Here is some additional information about each faculty member.

Frederick H. Billings (circa 1869-1964): Billings taught in the department of bacteriology (1907 to 1917) and served as its first chairman. He was then at the University of Redlands in southern California, where he was a professor of biology and bacteriology for nineteen years, until his retirement in 1940.

Harriett Greissinger (1876-1941): A KU alumna (1895), Greissinger was an Instructor (1902-1907) and Assistant Professor (1907-1921) of piano at the university. It appears she married John Wallace Brown around 1921 and moved to Santa Barbara, California, where she lived for the rest of her life.

William Alexander Griffith (1866-1940): Griffith came to KU in 1899 to establish the department of drawing and painting. During his tenure at the university, Griffith lobbied Sallie Casey Thayer to donate her art collection to KU; it forms the basis of what is today the Spencer Museum of Art. Griffith resigned his position at KU in 1920, relocating to Laguna Beach, California, to focus full time on landscape painting.

Mary Maud Smelser (1873-1960): Smelser studied music at KU (1891-1894) and returned to the university in 1903 to continue her studies. She worked at KU Libraries for fifty years as a reference assistant (1903-1905); an accessions librarian and, in her spare time, a collector of Kansas historical materials (1905-1950); and the head of the Kansas Historical Collections, which became the foundation of Spencer’s Kansas Collection (1950-1953).

William Chase Stevens (1861-1955): Stevens received his B.S. (1885) and M.S. (1893) at KU. He taught botany at his alma mater for forty-eight years, from 1889 to 1937. “I will do botanical work as long as I am able to wiggle,” Stevens declared to the University Daily Kansan on his eighty-seventh birthday (February 24, 1948).

Carrie Watson (1858-1943): Watson survived Quantrill’s Raid on Lawrence as a young child and went on to study at KU, earning degrees in 1878 and 1880. She was hired as an Assistant Librarian in 1878 and promoted to Head Librarian in 1887, a position she held until her retirement in 1921. Known as a disciplinarian, the Kansas City Star once reported that Watson “quieted [unruly students] with a chiding eye” and always insisted that “the library was a place for study rather than flirting.”

Caitlin Donnelly
Head of Public Services