Dad's Diary-1918
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On job at 8 a.m.-lastnight a hard air-raid from 9 to midnight. The low intermittant whirr of that German motor and then crash, crash, boom, of many bombs shattering the buildings here. The shutter of the earth like a minor earthquake is about to come forth. The uncoming sound of unimangineable quality-all conspire to contract the heart and make ones muscles absolutely quiver in fear, will the next one hit you?..One is not morally afraid for one is prepared to meet his end someday, and timidly and feebly ask the Good God of all to receive a soul. But psychologically the intense uncertainty as to wether the flight of these bombs will carry to one’s own place of rest, makes one by very, very, serious, for it means facing death, calmly and cynically, thank God for the personal privelege of prayer. Above all is the personal grip on self discipline. The absolute relief that follows an avid prayer session between one self and our heavenly father is indiscribeable. The peace that passes all understanding is marvelous. Thank God we can pray to Our Father Which art in heaven, Hallowed by thy name. Glory.. 12Just so very deep in meditative thought after last night’s horrific raid. My reaction to the whole thing was a cleasing to one of our co-workers-our first casuality of this war. A woman worker who was in the hospital shelled. Talked with Benny before retiring. Wrote a postal to Mabelle and will writeone a day til she recovers from the arrival of Jr.(?) 13 No study Dinner with Mr. Hendee at a friend of his. A lady whose husband has been a civil prisoner in Brussels for 3½ years, who herself made her escape into Holland and thence to Paris and who having had everything, wealth, could purchase almost anything, has not lived comfortablybut on a smaller scale, with her arrival here in Paris in 1914. She has had no contact with her husband and doesn’t even know if he is dead or alive. Luncheon with Geo. Spencer of Detroit, and who had connections with C.H. Bennet of Plymouth Mich. In the early automobile days of the great Henry Ford. He also was close friends with Teddy Roosevelt. He is here to do a Russian newspaper for those in the service her from Russia. 14 No languages today. Have to give more time to study and less time to social activities. Dinner at Mrs. Bowlers, met a Mr. Beveridge who is Jr. Director of the biggest old world steamship company. D.A. Davis was there who is in YMCA French troops work. Funeral was had for Miss Martin, at the American Church, our first victim in Paris, and hope the last. The church was filled-sadness- traum Had a request call from Mrs. Theo. Roosevelt, Jr. seeking permission to go see her wounded brother in law Capt. Archie Roosevelt. 15 Terrific terrible explosion of powder plant few miles out of the city. Concussion of wind broke windows as it rushed along the city’s streets like a mighty ocean wave. Block after block. We have a beautiful crystal blue sky and this massive enormous mass of white powder coming mile high, smoke hangs suspended in an almost artistic fashion at first glance, .Within 20 minutes every Army nurse, Every doctor was en-route. Within 2 hrs, our wonderful courageous Red Cross Ladies had a dozen stations set up. War is Hell – Peace is Heaven. I say this in prayer.
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About the Book
Mother was one of these ladies who would be on the cover of an Ladies Home Journal or Women's Companion. She had a lady like aura about her in her early married years. She gave birth to me, her last child, at forty-one years of age. My knowledge of what life was like with the family, of two brothers and 1 sister, has only come to me what I have put together the past few years. They always went on family outings. Summer vacations of two months spent at a beachfront summer cottage. Motor trips to Michigan and New England were much the vogue. I remember a lot of noteworthy facts that I grew up with and now recall some in my latter years. One day I cleaned out my mother's attic after her death in 1959. I found an old chest type box that my sister took claim on because she was older. I hadn't seen this box again till 1992 when my sister passed away at the age of 77 years. In it I found Dad's Diary. It had been given to him by the Postal Division of the Y.M.C.A. Paris Christmas 1917.There also was a packet of love letters from Clifton to Mabelle, and a faded silk scarf that she must have tied around her Gibson Girl locks. After a reading of the diary, avidly, I thought Mother and Dad, you are in heaven, and I saw a whole different relationship of you two. You missed each other terribly while separated with mother in Michigan, and Dad in France. You, mother, kept the home fires burning, the children well, and was very affectionate in writing Dad all the time. You carried a new little baby this year of 1918 till May 12th. You both did your own thing to build this marriage on solid rock and maintain that committed love made on your Wedding Day June 21, 1910. I could see you did have a solid marriage. All the time writing this book about the Diary gave me an insight of what is down the road for us and not knowing it. It made me feel good to see the family of two brothers, and a sister, and a mom and dad that I would become a part of seven years from this year 1918. Not many people would ever have this opportunity to see the family and how it was before he or she is born into it. Can you understand the feelings I had? They were almost indescribable. My sincere hope is that whoever reads this book, will give their time to make their family work the old fashioned way. One with devoted love for one another, friendly togetherness, under the guiding hand of our heavenly father. Dad was a worker in the YMCA and traveled on the front, as he served like an army chaplain. He met hundreds of our boys. So this diary's pages delve into that work. The pen and ink sketches were drawn from looking at the little 3x5 glass slides, Dad had a French photographer with him and only two sets were made, one for Mr. Hendee, and the other for Dad. I have become very proud of Clifton Jackson, my Dad, since writing and drawing for this book. Thank you.
About the Author
I have had a full life of seventy-six years, usual high school – class of ’43. During the war years, there were only two dozen boys in the senior class. All of the others went into the service. I eloped with my sailor-boy June 2, 1949.We drove a ’40 Plymouth from Long Island, New York to Astoria, Oregon. There was the first and only home we bought in 1955. We had four children. In 1980, we had to sell the only home the children knew. We had to move to my sister’s home in New Jersey. She had Alzheimer Disease and I had to be her caregiver. In 1992, she died, and we left Jersey and made a new home with our eldest son, Kenneth, in Delaware. I saw my husband survive cancer and overcome stroke, which bring us to now and a life long dream of writing a book. An Air Force Sergeant, a retired engineer, several friends and family all lived and loved Dad’s Diary 1918. A high school teacher said he was in tears reading it.