WWI Army Camouflage and Interpreter Richard Peters

Richard Peters

One of the many enjoyments of historical research, regardless of the topic, is to unearth little-known stories about individuals whose interesting, eventful lives have been forgotten long ago. I recall that many years ago, I found information about an American painter named Carl W. Peters (1897-1980), who had served as an army camoufleur in France during World War I. Some years later, I ran across a reference to another American in relation to camouflage, a man named Richard Peters. Momentarily I confused Carl Peters with Richard, vis-a-vis the camouflage link, but it’s doubtful if they were related. At last I am now sharing the little that I know about Richard (1851-date unknown): He appears in a photograph (above), and a newspaper article featuring him is quoted below.

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Frank P. Sibley, 26TH DIVISION LUCKY IN TWO OF ITS LIEUTENANTS, in The Boston Globe (May 14, 1918), p. 14—

…Lieutenant [Richard] Peters is probably the oldest lieutenant in the American Expenditionary Forces. He is 67 years old, of a distinguished Philadelphia family. He turned up as an interpreter, without any commission, only anxious to serve wherever he could be used.

Near the headquarters town of the training area where the division was first placed, is a magnificient chateau. It hangs like a swallow’s nest on the side of a steep hill, a picturesque, towering old stronghold that is said to contain 300 rooms, and it belongs to a princess, a cousin of Lieutenant Peters. 

He brought her offer of the chateau as headquarters to the division along with his proffer of his own services. The chateau was declined and he was accepted. So he stayed on, making himself useful whenever he found the chance.

He is an old athlete, very well known as a steeple chaser and runner and jumper. He was a near-champion skater even up to three years ago, and has had a wide European experience. And he is credited with having spent three fortunes.

Goodbye, Little Goatee

At least one of [those fortunes] is in his outfit: Lieutenant Peters is probably one of the best-equipped men in the whole army. To list his stuff would take a great deal of space, beginning with air mattress, bath tub, coats (seven). How he moves without the aid of a truck is another mystery.

The Camouflage Club, an organization of the young officers attached to division headquarters, has made persistent efforts to ask Lieutenant Peters for the loan of something he didn’t have, but so far the club is running a hopeless second.

Now in person Lieutenant Peters is of middle height, slight of stature, though finely muscled, bald, and—up to the time when he dropped Mister for Loot [Lieut]—wearing a moustache and a 15-hair goatee, or teaser, which clung to the edge of his lower lip; in fact, he said he was born with it.

The first thing the jokers of the Camouflage Club pulled on him was the general order that officers must be clean shaven or wear only a moustache. Lieutenant Peters never said a word, but off went the cherished goatee that night.

Then he was given charge of the court martial prisoners, three big motor trucks and the advance baggage.

That was one of the luckiest parties that ever happened. Lieutenant Peters was lucky in that he belonged to a well-behaved division, and there weren’t enough prisoners to furnish forth an adequate kitchen police.

The legal authorities at headquarters say the division has made a record for the lowest number of convictions of not only the present army and war, but probably of all the armies in the history of our country.

The prisoners were even luckier, for their lieutenant forgot to draw rations for his men before starting, and had to feed them in restaurants all the way across country, out of his own pocket. When the division caught up to its prisoners they were still licking their chops and grinning.