Ray O. Williams, an American soldier during WWI, wrote many letters and postcards to his penpal Ruth Backof about his training and experiences in America and France.

20 June 1918: Private Williams, a Chicagoan, writes to Ruth Backof hoping that she will begin to correspond with him. He mentions having been at Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis: "How well I remember that, as I slept at the Hotel De Hardwood for a few nights. You will probably know that as the Armory." He says that "all of us are awfully anxious" to get to France and assures Ruth that the women can "do their share" simply by writing to lonely soldiers.

30 June 1918: Williams tells teacher-in-training Backof, "I always did like a school 'mum' " and mentions that he hopes to finish an electrical engineering degree at the University of Illinois after the war.

9 July 1918: Williams describes his training in the use of the gas mask: "We go into a small house filled with gas and have to put our gas masks on before we are overcome." Williams failed this exercise but "no harm done whatever."

15 July 1918: Williams describes his work in the Signal Corps, saying that "[o]ur company is an outpost company and is known as the Suicide Company on account of the great number that have been injured and killed so far in like work. . . . We are armed with pistols only and really don't have very much chance. The enemy always tries to eliminate the signalmen as they are considered the eyes and mouth of the army. . . ." The writing paper bears the slogan: "To the writer: Save by writing on 'both' sides of this paper. To the folks at home: Save food, buy liberty bonds and war savings stamps."

25 July 1918: Williams writes from Camp Mills on Long Island, where his group awaits transport to France. He describes marching past the White House on his trip up from South Carolina, the ministrations of the Red Cross, and the aerodrome attached to the camp: "It is nothing unusual at all to see the sky filled with [planes] and our hearts are in our mouths about half of the time."

15 September 1918: Now in France in mid-September 1918 and promoted to corporal, Williams comments on the beauty of the countryside and the many vineyards, regretting that he is not allowed to photograph the scenery. Half of his letter has been excised by the censor.

28 September 1918: Williams remarks that he has been busy in France "taking care of my blisters." He advises Ruth: "You should watch the papers and when you hear of the 'Wildcat Division' you will know that yours truly is around somewhere. . . ." He describes a village formerly occupied by the Germans, where "nearly all buildings have a few shell holes in them some place or other."

16 October 1918: Williams describes his "nice dirty little hut" in the hills, "out of touch of all, it seems, with the exception of a few Boches." There are towns nearby, "but there is very little life in them and I find that France is really worse off, than generally known." He feels that "this little 'pleasure trip' will not end until the Yanks march right into Berlin."

31 October 1918: Williams is nonplussed by Backof's confession that she has received none of his letters. He writes that "peace talk is very prominent here" in France on October 31, 1918.

November 1918: After the armistice Williams hopes for a quick return to the States. "Our bunch came through wonderfully at the critical time," he reports of his group, "and I for one am glad that I am a member of the Wildcats." He commiserates with Backof over the severity of the influenza epidemic Stateside and notes, "We have a little here but we just haven't time to fool with it."

6 December 1918: Williams records that he and his group were ready to attack for the second time within two days "when the armistice was declared. Who knows if we would have come through that as well as the first?" He is unsure whether he will soon embark for home or proceed into Germany. He also reports having kept "a wonderful little diary and I think it almost as interesting as a book, even tho I did write it myself."

19 December 1918: This Christmas postcard bears the inscription: "On active service, A. E. F. [American Expeditionary Force], somewhere in France."

28 December 1918: Williams describes a Christmas dinner cooked for his group by an old Frenchwoman and thinks he will be home within two months. The stationery is headed: "American Expeditionary Forces, Knights of Columbus, Somewhere in France" and bears an image of the clustered flags of Italy, Great Britain, France, and the United States between banners reading,"War Activities, Overseas Service."

9 January 1919: Williams mentions having seen photographs in a magazine of armistice day celebrations in St. Louis and hopes to be home by the end of February 1919. "I, for one, am getting awfully anxious to again enjoy a few of the frivolities."

31 January 1919: Williams reports that the First Army, of which his group is part, "will pass in review of the 'Big Boys' tomorrow." He speaks of passes to Paris and trips to special leave centers, but is still unsure when he will be going home or whether he will be sent into Germany.

March 1919: Williams describes his leave in Paris, "a splendid place, plenty of life and amusements for most anyone. About the best place is the Casino. . . . [Y]ou can see some of the msot beautiful Mademoiselles there, I ever saw." He fears he will not be home until August or September, and whereas soldiers returning now are being royally feted, "everyone will be so tired out when we get back that they will forget all about us."

May 1919: Sergeant Williams announces that he is sailing for home with his group on June 3. The notepaper is headed: "Eighty-First Division, American Expeditionary Forces" and bears the image of a snarling cat.

June 1919: Williams writes from on board U. S. S. "Roanoke" on his way back to South Carolina, expecting to be mustered out of the army in early July. The postcard is imprinted: "Well done, boys. America greets you."

October 1919: Williams writes in October 1919 from the Office of the Electrical Engineer, Illinois Central Railroad Company, apologizing for not having sent Ruth the promised letter once he reached home. He thanks her for her "cheery letters" during the war: "They always were a sure cure. . . . You can therefore feel that you and your kind did even more towards winning the war than we did. It was always the memory of those so dear to us that keep us in health and spirit [sic]."

Undated: This pre-printed postcard announces: "The ship on which I sailed has arrived safely overseas."