Chapter 3

June 7, 1918
 
After 12 days on the water we are safely "over there," and we won't go back to the U. S. A. until it is "over, over there." We have heard lots of the European countries and its people, how they live and lots of other things that will be of interest to us all. We get our first view of the English people, when, as we are slowly drifting into the harbor thousands rush to the seashore, yelling at the top of their voices and waving handkerchiefs and allied flags, especially the flags of Great Britain and the United States. In return to this welcome, the military band on board plays several selections, including "It's a Long Way to Tipperary." Then as we are fixing to anchor the band plays "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here." This piece is repeated several times before a change is made, as it is very popular with the fellows. We anchor a few yards from where we are to disembark. Before leaving the ship, as they are going to land before morning, several prominent civilians, who are passengers on the "Melita" made short talks to us. The last speaker, Sir Robert Borden, prime minister of Canada, in his closing words says, "When you meet the Germans give 'em hell." The fellows are all glad that the trip is over and that again land is only a short distance away. Everyone is wild with excitement, anxious to land and start for France.

June 8, 1918

The majority of the fellows stay up all night, sitting here and there discussing the European countries and playing games. Men who had never been far away from their state talked as if they knew about Europe. Those who went to bed were awakened at 3 o'clock in the morning. Breakfast is hastily served and then the fellows roll their packs and blanket rolls and line up on deck. Platoon sergeants check their plaoons to see whether or not there are any men absent. The landing starts at 5:20 a. m., and we (Company F) start at 5:40 a. m. The platoon I belong to, the fourth, is given the task of unloading the company equipment and loading it on what they call a train in England. We left the rations we had brought from the States on the wharf. We then marched to a street near the station and stack arms and wait for the orders to leave for Dover, from where we go to France. We leave Liverpool at 1 p. m., passing through London late in the evening. All along the way the people wave flags and handkerchiefs at us. The train we are on, like the rest of the English trains, is an odd looking thing. The coaches have four compartments, getting in and out of them from the side. But though the engine looked a joke, it made fast time when it started, making as fast a time as the average American passenger train. Sundown finds us still traveling toward Dover.

June 9, 1918

Dover is reached at 2 o'clock in the morning. Everything is dark, not a light being seen anywhere. This fact brings to us the realization that we are not many miles from the battle fronts. After unloading we hike to a building about a kilometer away, which is said to be bomb-proof, and after the usual among of red tape we are assigned to the fourth floor. It seemed as if we had been hiking all day when we reached this building and the climb up the step of the building tires us complete out. We were as hungry as we were tired and before laying down for a few hours sleep we opened cans of salmon and took hard tacks from our pockets and had an early morning meal. The meal finished we all lay down and went to sleep, using our packs and blanket rolls as pillows. We get to sleep for two hours and then the first sergeant wakes us and tells us to go below and get breakfast. English soldiers give us a piece of goat meat and a piece of bread for breakfast and the same thing for a lunch. We then march back to where we had unloaded from the train and find our company equipment and load it on the channel boat "Dieppe." Having nothing else to do I stroll about the nearby vicinity and notice the guns and other defences around the harbor. Aeroplanes are doing patrol duty over the town and seeing that no German 'planes get an opportunity to bomb it. Returning to where the company is I find that it is just beginning to load on the boat. Just before going on board I buy my first foreign newspaper, one of four pages printed in London. The little boy I buy it from seems more interest in us fellows than he does in selling his papers. The paper cost two pence, which in American money would be four cents. We leave Dover at 11:30 in the morning and reach Calais, France, without any mishap, at 1:30 in the afternoon. A few Grench, American and British soldiers are the only crowd that greets us. The reception here is unlike the one we received in England, but France is in a desperate struggle with the Germans, who are invading her land, burning, murdering and destroying as they come. The homes and liberty of this country is threatened by the advancing Huns. Instead of being at the wharf to greet us the women of France, while the men are at the front, are doing their work at home. It can be said of England too that her men are away at war and that the women are taking their places, but here in France one gets a sterner view of the effects of war. The company begins landing 34 minutes past one, and when this is completed we are marched to a rest camp a few hundred yards away. Here we are assigned to British army tents, which are practically the same size of the American army tent, only the British tent is round while ours is square. Fifteen men are assigned to the tent I get assigned to. We are lucky enough to have space to lay down in and that is all. At mess call for supper we are each one issued a ticket by the first sergeant, and unless a fellow has one of these tickets when he starts in the mass hall, he is out of luck for supper for the French girls cannot understand English and therefore a fellow can't explain why he hasn't a ticket. Several hundred men eat daily at each one of the mess halls in camp. British soldiers do the cooking and waiting on the tables. The food is nothing extra, but better than that received on the "Melita" while crossing the Atlantic. After I have finished supper and put my mess kit away I go into the town and get my first direct view of some of the atrocities committed by the German aviators. Hundreds of little children are on the streets all day begging. American soldiers, who fro some reason or other they have a special liking for, for money and when they have any, for eats. They are ragged and dirty and look as if they had never had a bath in their life. Their fathers are at the front fighting for the freedom of his country, if he had not already been killed or wounded, while their mothers are somewhere in the town cleaning the cannon that have just been brought back from the front for repairs of cleaning rifles and bayonets. Some of the little children are selling oranges to the soldiers, getting half a franc, the equivalent to 10 cents in American money, for small oranges that would bring about three cents in the States. But it is hard for the French to secure transportation to bring these oranges to Calais. The franc is worth only 17 cents in American money, but when buying anything we let a franc equal 20 cents as change is scared. It does not matter whether French money goes up or down five francs is equivalent to one dollar in our money, in all of the estaminents, and other French shops. Thousands of soldiers of every nationality are stationed in and near Calais to defend this town in case of an attack by the Germans, who are not many miles away. The streets of this town are narrow and dirty. A few street cars are in operation manned by women conductors and motorwomen. Bomb-proof shelters are located here and there for the people to go to in case of an air raid. I chat with some American soldiers who have been in France for several months, and from them I learn the ways and nick-names of the different allied soldiers. The Scotch soldier's nick-name is "Jock" and he has a good fighting reputation; as a rule he wears a kilt and anybody can get along with him. The Germans call the Scotch the "ladies from hell." The French soldier is known as poilu and better known as "Frogie." He is a stubborn fighter, that being proved at the battle of Verdun. The English soldier is called "Tommy" and seems to be a pretty good chap. On my way back to camp, I stop at a prisoner of war cage where several German prisoners are confined. They have recently been captured and are large fellows. One of them asks me for a newspaper I have, but the sentry, a fighting looking Scotchman, came up and ran me away from the wire fence, knowing I was a new arrival and did not know the rules governing the prisoners. The sentry is a good-natured fellow though, and after promising him I would not carry on a conversation with the Germans, he lets me go back to the fence. In the States a soldier on guard is not allowed to talk to any one except in line of duty, neither is a Scotchman in England, but as the Scotchman says, red tape is not very poplar in France, in certain things, and guard duty must have been one of these things, for he made an interesting talker, telling us of some of his experiences at the front in the trenches. I reach my tent at sundown, but the night is not very dark. A group of the fellows are standing in front of the sergeant's tent carrying on a general conversation and I join them. We talk of one thing and another for over an hour, when suddenly we all stop as if struck dumb. One fellow says he thought he heard German 'planes coming over and in a few minutes the conversation is continued. Again the same noise causes us to cease talking and to listen, for it was heard more distinctly this time. In a minute or so we hear the noise again more distinct still, and we now understand the meaning. Away off toward Belgium, the noise comes b-o-o-m, b-o-o-m, boom, boom; the echo from the big guns at the front that are sending death and destruction to friend and foe alike. No longer does 3,000 miles separate us from the battle front. We are now within a short distance of the firing line of freedom and justice. No turning back now, but instead sooner or later, we'll have to go through the living hell the other fellows have and are at the present going through. Over here patriotic speeches are no good and patriotic speakers are not wanted. Only a man who is not to proud to fight is wanted and needed. The firing lasts for an hour and then stops. Again everything is quiet and we resume our talk saving had little to say during the firing. Two of the fellows light cigarettes, but they get little enjoyment out of them, for along comes a sentry and orders the cigarettes put out. He explains to us that German 'planes coming over at night can see a lit cigarette a long distance off, and could easily locate the camp and bomb it. He told us they came over nearly every night and bombed the town and had tried to locate the camp but had been unsuccessful so far. We decide that we'll stay up late and watch for the German night visitors, but no German 'plane comes over, so we "turn in" (go to bed.)