TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE NOVEMBER 17, P. 24
As long as I was on the boat I was having a good time, but we had a terrible storm at sea for two days, lost our convoy and for eight hours the engine was cut off and we simply drifted with the wind. To begin with, three days out of Quebec, Spanish “flu” struck our ship, put 30 in bed and three died at sea. One was Miss Shaw, daughter of former secretary of state. We put eight in an English hospital en route. I was leader of 12 girls, and I want to tell you to keep that bunch well, cheerful and able to laugh through all that was no little job. Luckily none of my bunch got the flu, but several got seasick two or three times.
I started from the promenade deck to my stateroom one morning, got to the stairs, then immediately proceeded to give the cabin steward enough work to keep him busy cleaning the steps for an hour. I only missed eating one meal, but missed several immediately after eating. We were in an English boat and the crew did everything possible for our pleasure and comfort. We slept in our clothes and lifebelts the last three nights. Saw no subs at all; seems they were all busy on the Irish coast.
I started out of New York with a party of five Southern girls and fortunately we kept together, even in our hotel here.
I am afraid that we will never forget that burial at sea. They let us see only one. Not a tear, not a song, nor a flower, but a silence so deep that not even the flap of a seagull’s wing seemed to break that awful and indescribable silence, when the engine stopped for two minutes, and the body, sewn in a canvas sack heavily weighted, glided down a smooth plank into the briny grave. Full military honors, flag half mast, etc. It cast a terrible gloom upon the whole ship, but others were sick and dying, and you had to forget everything except the fact that we must work. Twenty-one nurses, and 14 of them sick, made it imperative that everyone able to walk must work to save the sick. After we put the last eight in a hospital, things cheered up again, and when we landed, several hundred Yanks soon sighted us and came aboard, as though they expected to find a gold mine. We were just as glad to see them, too, believe me, and everyone got the heartiest handshake they had received since leaving the United States.
NOTES: Mrs. Rose Chilton was writing from Paris where she was serving as a Red Cross secretary. Prior to the war she was employed in the Little Rock, Arkansas Rock Island Railroad office as a transportation clerk.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
As long as I was on the boat I was having a good time, but we had a terrible storm at sea for two days, lost our convoy and for eight hours the engine was cut off and we simply drifted with the wind. To begin with, three days out of Quebec, Spanish “flu” struck our ship, put 30 in bed and three died at sea. One was Miss Shaw, daughter of former secretary of state. We put eight in an English hospital en route. I was leader of 12 girls, and I want to tell you to keep that bunch well, cheerful and able to laugh through all that was no little job. Luckily none of my bunch got the flu, but several got seasick two or three times.
I started from the promenade deck to my stateroom one morning, got to the stairs, then immediately proceeded to give the cabin steward enough work to keep him busy cleaning the steps for an hour. I only missed eating one meal, but missed several immediately after eating. We were in an English boat and the crew did everything possible for our pleasure and comfort. We slept in our clothes and lifebelts the last three nights. Saw no subs at all; seems they were all busy on the Irish coast.
I started out of New York with a party of five Southern girls and fortunately we kept together, even in our hotel here.
I am afraid that we will never forget that burial at sea. They let us see only one. Not a tear, not a song, nor a flower, but a silence so deep that not even the flap of a seagull’s wing seemed to break that awful and indescribable silence, when the engine stopped for two minutes, and the body, sewn in a canvas sack heavily weighted, glided down a smooth plank into the briny grave. Full military honors, flag half mast, etc. It cast a terrible gloom upon the whole ship, but others were sick and dying, and you had to forget everything except the fact that we must work. Twenty-one nurses, and 14 of them sick, made it imperative that everyone able to walk must work to save the sick. After we put the last eight in a hospital, things cheered up again, and when we landed, several hundred Yanks soon sighted us and came aboard, as though they expected to find a gold mine. We were just as glad to see them, too, believe me, and everyone got the heartiest handshake they had received since leaving the United States.
NOTES: Mrs. Rose Chilton was writing from Paris where she was serving as a Red Cross secretary. Prior to the war she was employed in the Little Rock, Arkansas Rock Island Railroad office as a transportation clerk.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT