Source: “Duty Nobly Done” page 329.
Family Search: When Private Frank Andrew Kern was born on 6 May 1880, in Wisconsin, United States, his father, Andrew Andreas Kern, was 37 and his mother, Matilda Joanna Minkler, was 20. He had at least 1 son and 1 daughter with Eleanor Emma Loope. He lived in Harrison, Calumet, Wisconsin, United States in 1940 and Menasha, Winnebago, Wisconsin, United States in 1955. He registered for military service in 1917. In 1914, his occupation is listed as owner, launder. kern laundrey in Kaukauna, Outagamie, Wisconsin, United States. He died in December 1955, at the age of 75, and was buried in Kaukauna, Outagamie, Wisconsin, United States.
American citizen.
KAUKAUNA MAN WRITES FROM FRANCE
Frank A. Kern of this city, who enlisted early in the summer with the Canadian army, has gone across the sea to fight on the battle fronts. He had not been heard from for several weeks and mail sent to him at his last Canadian address had been returned, so it was presumed that he had sailed overseas some time ago, although nothing definite was known. This week Mrs. Kern received a letter from him written at Bramshott Camp, Hamshire county, England, from the Y. M. C. A. club there. The letter bears date of October 20th, and says in part:
Dear Folks at Home:
It has been some time since you have heard from me. Well I have arrived safely in England, am well but very tired. On account of censorship I cannot tell you about the trip across the ocean, other than that I have been riding continually. Many of the boys were sea-sick but I was not among their number. I received the package of sox sent me just a few hours before leaving Canada. Most of the apples, cakes and peanuts were taken out. I don’t know whether the post-office department got them or whether some of our sergeants got the dainties; anyway I didn’t. Just the same thank the McCarty’s, Montgomery’s, J. L. Anderson and Ada for me. I am so anxious to get home papers. We are in quarantine now awaiting discharge. Tell father and mother I will write them as soon as we are at liberty. You will notice that I do not have to pay postage on this letter. This is a great country for scenery. Hedges all along the railroads. Nearly all the houses are built of brick. But the railroads are funny; coaches are small; only eight people in a compartment. I told some of the Englishmen that I thought I would buy one and send it home for my boy as a Christmas present. I am not going to Scotland as I have had ride enough for a while.—Kaukauna Times.
The Post-Crescent. Mon, Nov 19, 1917 ·Page 8.
Kern’s Comrade Writes
Here’s a letter from W.M. Patterson who is in the same company at Alderman Frank Kern, written to a friend here:
“Although I am in the same company with Frank Kern I have not seen him for a week for the reason that he is on detached duty and I am engaged in helping to unload shiploads of provisions having been transferred to the C.A.S.C. but will then go back to camp about next Sunday. I sure have put in a hard week’s work handling supplies such as quarters of beef, sides of pork, bags of flour, sugar, potatoes, carrots, turnips, beets, cabbages, and all kinds of groceries and provisions for the reserves at camp. There seems to be no end to the food shipped here for this great training camp. Among the provisions included besides that mentioned above are rabbits and sheep from Australia, beef heart and liver from Argentina, pork, hams, bacon, corned beefs, canned meats, from God’s country – the U.S.A. – potatoes and vegetables from Canada and the United States, and ever so many other things too numerous to mention.
I had a package of American cigarettes sent to me the other day from home and we are all smoking them – good old Camels which all the boys love. I just cut out a piece from a magazine that sure hits the spot in regard to soldier’s smokes, and I notice in a recent Kaukauna Times the objection somebody here has to the boys smoking cigarettes in the Army. Just wish some of those tight-laced kind of folks had to endure at home what we soldiers have to stand while in the service – I think they would change their minds mighty soon. Here’s a bit of poetry.
When Fritz is starting something and his gun are on the bust,
When the parapet goes up in chunks, and settles down in dust,When the roly-poly “rum-jar” comes a-wobbling thro’ the air,
‘Til it lands upon a dugout – and the dugout isn’t there,
When the air is full of dust, and smoke, and scraps of steel and noise,
And you think you’re booked for golden crowns and other Heavenly joys’
When your nerves are all a-tremble, and your brain is all a-fret,
It isn’t half as hopeless if you’ve got a cigarette.
History of the 18th Battalion CEF, "The Fighting Eighteenth" 