WWI Letter

February 27, 1918

Dear Rita,

I have been getting your letters. I’m sorry I haven’t written for a long time, but I can’t tell you how much I miss you. I miss Manhattan, and I hope all the race riots have been subsiding there. I don’t understand the segregation of the Puerto Rican regiment, much less the segregation of every public place in America. The Great Migration has brought so many African Americans to the North. I thought they would be treated better there, but it seems like the Progressive Movement and Wilson care very little about racial equality at this time. It’s so strange to me. In Puerto Rico, everyone is so mixed in their ethnic background that no one is discriminated against: everyone is just Puerto Rican. One private in the regiment, Orlando, asked me, “Why are the black Puerto Ricans in a different regiment? They’re Puerto Ricans! They should be with their brothers!” I know that one day all the rioting will cease, and we will all live in peace. I remember the Silent Protest Parade, and I’ve heard talk of Marcus Garvey. I don’t agree with his ideas. If blacks and whites can live together as a community in Puerto Rico, I know they can do so in the United States. I hope African American participation in war will lead to greater appreciation of their race, and eventually, complete freedom.
I do love America, and my job at the factory is nothing like the farm back home, but the union has helped me so much and I was finally able to support you. I have been struggling with the concept that although Puerto Ricans are citizens of the United States and many of us were drafted into the Army and Navy, we cannot vote for President of the United States and have no representation in the federal government! We can kill and die for the United States, but we cannot choose the leader of “our country”. I admire and look up to José de Diego. I’m glad he confronted Wilson’s hypocrisy. Weren’t we drafted to defend democracy? But Puerto Ricans are not worthy of such an American idea.
I’m sorry I haven’t been talking much of France, I much prefer talking about what’s happening in America. I can’t lie and say I’m not afraid. I was afraid back at home when I had heard that hundreds of thousands of French and German soldiers were killed in the Battle of Verdun. I don’t like thinking about France. I know how much you want to visit Paris, but I have not seen the city yet. France is nice, but it’s nothing like Ponce back home. Maybe after we get married we can live in Paris for a year! I haven’t seen much of combat, but have spent some time in the trenches (Puerto Rican and black regiments see much less combat than whites). I hope never to go back. The destruction I’ve seen is enough for a lifetime. Bodies strewn about, my own friends being killed in front of my eyes… I don’t want to worry you with what I’ve experienced, but I know you want to know.
These new weapons are like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been introduced to chemical warfare and automatic weapons. I’ve been exposed to mustard gas, which soldiers call LOST. It was produced by the Germans. It’s a yellowish green gas that sinks to the bottom of the trenches, producing unbearable effects such as skin blistering, and suffocation (when the soldiers inhale the gas, they drown in their own fluid). The gas forces soldiers out of the trenches, leaving them vulnerable and out in the open (called “no man’s land”), where they are killed by artillery fire. It feels like you’re burning from the inside out, but luckily the gas masks help. The new artillery is so destructive. With machine guns, you can take out a whole line of men (dozens!) in a matter of seconds.
The trenches are horrible. There are rats the size of cats that eat the dead bodies of soldiers around me. Sometimes instead of sand bags we use body parts. The weather is horrific, nothing like the sunny weather of Ponce. It rains all day and all night, and since it’s winter it freezes and sleets. Many men become fatally ill. Tuberculosis is rampant and trench fever has left men unable to fight for up to two weeks. Trench fever is caused by body lice, and since all of us live in such close quarters, most men get it. The sickness, death, and destruction are unbearable.
Luckily, I’ve mostly been working at the mess hall and in supply units. I cook and serve food to white regiments. It’s not nearly as bad as you would think. I’m just glad to be out of combat for now. Hopefully, peace will be achieved, and I’ll be home soon. I miss you.

Love,

Juan Andres

Mexican Immigrant 1920- Reaction 3

America is a wonderful place. I would rather be here than anywhere else. I’m now making eight times as much as I was making in Mexico, I have a comfortable home, and two beautiful daughters. However, I despise this loose, individualistic American culture. In Mexico everything is family-oriented. We act as a collective unit, and everyone works hard together. In Mexican communities and families everyone has their place: women stay at home and care for children and the house, men work outside the home, children help their mother with chores. This American culture has been encroaching on the Mexican principles central to our lives. Organizations have been seeking me out at work, and telling me that my family and I need to conform to “American standards of living”. An organization called the Daughters of the American Revolution has been talking to my wife, who can barely even speak English! They try to persuade her to work outside of the house as a seamstress, which is completely unacceptable in our culture. They tell her about “reproductive choices”, and tell her she has the option not to have many children. I refuse to let her out of the house to attend these English classes taught by these loose women. These Americanization organizations keep telling my wife about how unhealthy our diets are, and how unsanitary we are. She has begun to serve bread in place of tortillas, and lettuce instead of beans! She has begun to influence our two daughters, which is exactly what these organizations wanted. One of them wants to drop out of high school to become a secretary- how disgraceful! My father would be appalled at this act of subversion. They both work as laundresses, and spend their wages on cosmetics and material things. That is another thing I despise: American materialism. There are more important things to worry about. Having luxurious things may be the American way, but they are useless in Mexican culture. My girls go out alone at night with boys, and do other things that wretched American girls do. If I forbid them to go out, they complain to me that all their American friends go out, and they have to become Americans if they intend to live here. I permanently forbade them from leaving the house, but my plan failed. The youngest ran off and was married to an American! I feel like my culture is crumbling in my hands. The family I had is disintegrating, becoming different people. They don’t understand how important it is to retain their Mexican values. Values were the only things we had when we moved here, and the only things that helped us survive.