TRANSCRIBED FROM THE HOME NEWS MARCH 14, 1919 P. 1
Romorantin, France,
March 13, 1919.
My dear wife:
At least I have opportunity to reveal to you the course of events in which I have participated since my departure from the U.S. After close confinement in which all information was withheld from us for two days, in the early hours of the morning of July 15 we were ordered to depart for the port of embarkation which later proved to be pier 58 New York City. How well I remember as I lay thinking in the early hours of the morning of home and what the future held in store for me. At last, just before 2 a.m. the order was given, “fall in” oh, how quiet the boys were, here and there a smothered laugh, but mostly solemn whispering. At last we were off to face the adventure bidding Camp Upton farewell. I will never forget the sight as long brown columns swung off into the darkness. We were not martialed away by the flare of music, but quietly faded into the night. Any attempt at conversation was sternly reprimanded by the officers. This was my first realization that I was off to war. We marched down to where the troop trains were sidetracked awaiting us. We quickly and quietly boarded them and were whirled away, everything like clockwork.
I realized then what a great task Uncle Sam must have to transport his great army across the sea and at the same time outwitting the Hun subs. We arrived in Long Island City just as the sun was breaking where ferries were in readiness for our transportation to pier 58. As we slid down the East river in the early hours of the morning, under the gigantic bridges with the sky line of the great city on both sides, many hearts were heavy but all laughed and joked among themselves as we warped up to the huge docks of pier 58 where great liners with their camouflaged sides were waiting to receive us. We hastily disembarked on the great pier and were soon marching up the gang plank of the royal mail steamer of the Cunnard line, Saxonia.
We were soon assigned to various departments and ready to partake of our first mess. Long will I remember the pungent appetizing odor of that odor of that department which much resembled that of a stock yard. About 4 p.m. we were towed out into the mighty Hudson where other ships fell in behind us, ours being the flagship of the convoy. It was not long before we took our last look at the statue of Liberty. We were guided on by a U.S. battle cruiser and were accompanied by scout planes observation baloons and sub pursuers. The scouts and observers departed at dusk leaving us to our fate. After two days voyage we dropped anchor at Halifax where we enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the old French town and the surrounding country. Here we had a fair view of the ruins caused by the explosion of the ammunition ship. We stayed in port for two days in view of the fact that a ship had just been torpedoed out of port.
At this time, our safety being assured we weighed anchor and steamed out upon the high seas, where we were joined by other transports, this making our convoy the largest up to that time that has sailed from America with troops for the A.E.F., the number totaling twenty-three. We sailed on and on, in a zig zag course wending our way for to the north, coming in contact with icebergs, day after day passed until at least we were met by a number of sub chasers, about 100 miles off the coast of Ireland.
Everything went well until 3:15 in the afternoon of the 15 day of our voyage when suddenly all were startled by a terrific thud caused by the explosion of a depth bomb which was thrown by a ship on our port side. But a few seconds lapsed until the entire deck rafts and rigging swarmed with eager hearted, red blooded Sammies awaiting a glimpse of the first Hun sub, whose periscope soon sprang to our view from a breaking wave. Its course was directed to our ship but was soon turned by the firing of several bombs from our port side. After crossing directly in front of our ship, the exact range was gotten by an English sailor our gunner on the starboard side, who fired the fatal shot, striking the periscope. There was a mighty explosion and huge flash of flames, casting the Hun into his watery grave. The wild cheers of the enthusiastic boys rang out from the depth of their hearts. Two other subs were gotten by the chasers a mile or so distant from the main fleet, all this taking place in the same zone in which the Lucitania met her fate.
Steaming up the Merz river July 31, we arose to view the most welcome sight of the entire journey, which was land and later the beautiful city of Liverpool. Long will that scene be vivid in our minds.
About 3 p.m. we warped up to the docks and disembarked, receiving the glad hand of welcome extended by the English people. There we took a midland train for Southampton, England. Our journey was through the most picturesque part of southern England, and it justly deserves the name of “The garden spot of the world” as it is often called. At 4 a.m. we marched into the socalled rest camp, just out of Southampton, where we tried to get some much needed rest. About all we accomplished here was to overcome sea legs. The following evening we marched aboard a steamer where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible for a trip across the channel. We arrived at Le Harve, France, at the break of day.
Our first view of France was through a heavy mist and fog. After plodding along under the heavy packs, we at last arrived at a rest camp on the hill overlooking the city. Here we remained in camouflaged tents during the day so as not to be spied by the enemy plane that might be scouting about. Little sleep did we get that night on our beds of boards and for the rear of guns at the front. The following day we were loaded into cars capable of hauling forty men or eight horses. What a scramble there was for even room to exist.
We arrived in Romorantin Augusut 5, where we have remained in camp, one and one half miles from the city to the present time. General Pershing in one of his visits to our camp, commended very highly the work done here and the spirit of the men, saying that each and every man by faithfully performing his duties here was contributing just as much and we just as necessary and essential to the final victory as the men in the trenches “He was doing his bit.”
With love,
Sgt. JELKS BRAZEALE
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY DEBRA POLSTON
Romorantin, France,
March 13, 1919.
My dear wife:
At least I have opportunity to reveal to you the course of events in which I have participated since my departure from the U.S. After close confinement in which all information was withheld from us for two days, in the early hours of the morning of July 15 we were ordered to depart for the port of embarkation which later proved to be pier 58 New York City. How well I remember as I lay thinking in the early hours of the morning of home and what the future held in store for me. At last, just before 2 a.m. the order was given, “fall in” oh, how quiet the boys were, here and there a smothered laugh, but mostly solemn whispering. At last we were off to face the adventure bidding Camp Upton farewell. I will never forget the sight as long brown columns swung off into the darkness. We were not martialed away by the flare of music, but quietly faded into the night. Any attempt at conversation was sternly reprimanded by the officers. This was my first realization that I was off to war. We marched down to where the troop trains were sidetracked awaiting us. We quickly and quietly boarded them and were whirled away, everything like clockwork.
I realized then what a great task Uncle Sam must have to transport his great army across the sea and at the same time outwitting the Hun subs. We arrived in Long Island City just as the sun was breaking where ferries were in readiness for our transportation to pier 58. As we slid down the East river in the early hours of the morning, under the gigantic bridges with the sky line of the great city on both sides, many hearts were heavy but all laughed and joked among themselves as we warped up to the huge docks of pier 58 where great liners with their camouflaged sides were waiting to receive us. We hastily disembarked on the great pier and were soon marching up the gang plank of the royal mail steamer of the Cunnard line, Saxonia.
We were soon assigned to various departments and ready to partake of our first mess. Long will I remember the pungent appetizing odor of that odor of that department which much resembled that of a stock yard. About 4 p.m. we were towed out into the mighty Hudson where other ships fell in behind us, ours being the flagship of the convoy. It was not long before we took our last look at the statue of Liberty. We were guided on by a U.S. battle cruiser and were accompanied by scout planes observation baloons and sub pursuers. The scouts and observers departed at dusk leaving us to our fate. After two days voyage we dropped anchor at Halifax where we enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the old French town and the surrounding country. Here we had a fair view of the ruins caused by the explosion of the ammunition ship. We stayed in port for two days in view of the fact that a ship had just been torpedoed out of port.
At this time, our safety being assured we weighed anchor and steamed out upon the high seas, where we were joined by other transports, this making our convoy the largest up to that time that has sailed from America with troops for the A.E.F., the number totaling twenty-three. We sailed on and on, in a zig zag course wending our way for to the north, coming in contact with icebergs, day after day passed until at least we were met by a number of sub chasers, about 100 miles off the coast of Ireland.
Everything went well until 3:15 in the afternoon of the 15 day of our voyage when suddenly all were startled by a terrific thud caused by the explosion of a depth bomb which was thrown by a ship on our port side. But a few seconds lapsed until the entire deck rafts and rigging swarmed with eager hearted, red blooded Sammies awaiting a glimpse of the first Hun sub, whose periscope soon sprang to our view from a breaking wave. Its course was directed to our ship but was soon turned by the firing of several bombs from our port side. After crossing directly in front of our ship, the exact range was gotten by an English sailor our gunner on the starboard side, who fired the fatal shot, striking the periscope. There was a mighty explosion and huge flash of flames, casting the Hun into his watery grave. The wild cheers of the enthusiastic boys rang out from the depth of their hearts. Two other subs were gotten by the chasers a mile or so distant from the main fleet, all this taking place in the same zone in which the Lucitania met her fate.
Steaming up the Merz river July 31, we arose to view the most welcome sight of the entire journey, which was land and later the beautiful city of Liverpool. Long will that scene be vivid in our minds.
About 3 p.m. we warped up to the docks and disembarked, receiving the glad hand of welcome extended by the English people. There we took a midland train for Southampton, England. Our journey was through the most picturesque part of southern England, and it justly deserves the name of “The garden spot of the world” as it is often called. At 4 a.m. we marched into the socalled rest camp, just out of Southampton, where we tried to get some much needed rest. About all we accomplished here was to overcome sea legs. The following evening we marched aboard a steamer where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible for a trip across the channel. We arrived at Le Harve, France, at the break of day.
Our first view of France was through a heavy mist and fog. After plodding along under the heavy packs, we at last arrived at a rest camp on the hill overlooking the city. Here we remained in camouflaged tents during the day so as not to be spied by the enemy plane that might be scouting about. Little sleep did we get that night on our beds of boards and for the rear of guns at the front. The following day we were loaded into cars capable of hauling forty men or eight horses. What a scramble there was for even room to exist.
We arrived in Romorantin Augusut 5, where we have remained in camp, one and one half miles from the city to the present time. General Pershing in one of his visits to our camp, commended very highly the work done here and the spirit of the men, saying that each and every man by faithfully performing his duties here was contributing just as much and we just as necessary and essential to the final victory as the men in the trenches “He was doing his bit.”
With love,
Sgt. JELKS BRAZEALE
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY DEBRA POLSTON