Post date: 17-Jul-2013 15:00:20
April 28, 1918
Dearest Isabelle,
So this is Paris!!! Oo la la!! But it doesn’t happen to be Paris at all but only a godforsaken depot some little distance from the front——and a more forlorn looking spot can’t be imagined. We finally arrived here about 2 a.m. after a ride on a French train that would make some much vaunted Peninsula trains—the 10:35 or the 4:40 for instance—look like lightning expresses.
As we were leaving, a Red Cross train pulled in direct from the front and filled with nice fresh cases. More rude awakenings.
I’m going to try to send you my ring, dear, and possibly it can be done from here. In England they would neither register it nor insure it for America.
Things are looking up, and there ought to be plenty to write about from now, henceforth and forevermore. Amen.
Considerable love from
Bo
Bogart Rogers was a 19-year-old Stanford sophomore when he decided to join the Royal Flying Corps. After training in Texas and Canada, Bogart sailed to England on the USS Tunisian in January 1918. He was assigned to the 32nd Squadron, one of six fighter squadrons in the newly formed Royal Air Force’s 9th (HQ) Brigade on the western front in France. He wrote home almost daily to his sweetheart, Isabelle Young, who was living in the Kappa Alpha Theta House at Stanford.