TRANSCRIBED FROM THE MELBOURNE TIMES OCTOBER 18, 1917 P. 2
Dear Editor and Friends:
Almost three months has passed since I was called out, and I have often thought I would write before now but while at Norfolk I could not find time as we were drilled awfully hard and when we were not drilling we were washing our clothes, as all sailors have to do, so you see we boys in the navy learn all trades.
We reached our destination by rail at Newport News Aug 12-17 and there took a small ship across the Chespeake bay, which took us a little more than an hour, and was a very pleasant ride for us. When we had gone as far aboard the ship as we could go. We were transferred to a yatch that carried us to the receiving ship. There we were lined up to answer roll call to see that none of us were left by the wayside. Then we were marched over to the mess hall to take our first meal with Uncle Sam. I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal any better than that one. Then we were carried to the detention camp where we were shown the bath room, and the larger part of us needed to use it, as many of us had been on the road three days and nights. So we all took a good shower bath and put on our first suit of Uncle Sam’s clothes.
Our first night at the detention camp we were caraied to a large building where we were to sleep. We had to sleep on the floor which was of concrete, but lucky for us there was a large pile of small mattresses there and we were allowed to use as many as we wished, so each one made his own bed to his own notion. There were about 150 of us, and of course were like a crowd of women—behind with our talking. In a few minutes taps were sounded on the bugle, but not knowing that from any other sound, we kept on talking and laughing. Pretty soon a man poked his head above the stairway and yelled: “Pike down, you hay shakers!” From that day until this we have all known what taps meant.
The next thing we knew we were aroused by an unusual noise and in a few minutes we were ordered out for muster to see that no one was lost in slumberland during the night. Next came breakfast, after which we were marched to the doctor’s office and there stood a more rigid examination than before. Here we were vaccinated and inoculated for typhoid fever and small pox. Next we were given one hammock and a bag that looked to be a two bushel grain bag, but later found it to be our trunk.
We were then marched to the supply house and given our clothing and shoes, after which we were shown how to pack our trunk or sack in true sailor style. Then we were assigned to our bungalow, each bungalow accommodating eight men and shown how to swing our hammocks and then we all sat around telling stories, and what we thought of the place or our new home, until about nine o’clock when we proceeded to roll in. We rolled out pretty soon—some of us for it requires about as much skill to ride one of those hammocks as it does to stay on the hurricane deck of a western broncho. Most every morning some one would come out with a black eye or a “hickey” on his head that you couldn’t hold an umbrella over. Some of the boys would laugh at him and ask him what was the cause of the accident. He would say his hammock threw him last night. At this time I am proud to say we have all gotten to be pretty good hammock riders.
The next move was to take our first lesson the drill ground as the boys call it the “grinder.” We were drilled about seven hours each day for twenty-eight days, so one day the good news came that we were going to be shipped to Charleston, S. C. Then our hearts leaped for joy because we thought there wouldn’t be any grinder there, and sure enough there wasn’t.
We have been here about 35 days having a good time, getting plenty to eat and working four or five hours a week. All the boys are having a nice time going to church and entertainments up town for we are allowed liberty every other afternoon and night.
I am glad to say the people of Charleston are awfully nice to the soldiers and sailors.
With best wishes to all my friends and especially those who are going to the navy and army and hoping to see you all after the war is brought to a successful finish. I am, Your friend,
Frank E. Fowler.
U. S. Naval Training Station,
care Co. 9, Sec. 3, Reg. 4, Charleston, S. C.
NOTES: Frank Elmer Fowler was born on August 11, 1894 in Jacksonport, Arkansas and died in Freeport, Texas on November 26, 1967. At the time of his registration he was a mechanic in Melbourne, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
Dear Editor and Friends:
Almost three months has passed since I was called out, and I have often thought I would write before now but while at Norfolk I could not find time as we were drilled awfully hard and when we were not drilling we were washing our clothes, as all sailors have to do, so you see we boys in the navy learn all trades.
We reached our destination by rail at Newport News Aug 12-17 and there took a small ship across the Chespeake bay, which took us a little more than an hour, and was a very pleasant ride for us. When we had gone as far aboard the ship as we could go. We were transferred to a yatch that carried us to the receiving ship. There we were lined up to answer roll call to see that none of us were left by the wayside. Then we were marched over to the mess hall to take our first meal with Uncle Sam. I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal any better than that one. Then we were carried to the detention camp where we were shown the bath room, and the larger part of us needed to use it, as many of us had been on the road three days and nights. So we all took a good shower bath and put on our first suit of Uncle Sam’s clothes.
Our first night at the detention camp we were caraied to a large building where we were to sleep. We had to sleep on the floor which was of concrete, but lucky for us there was a large pile of small mattresses there and we were allowed to use as many as we wished, so each one made his own bed to his own notion. There were about 150 of us, and of course were like a crowd of women—behind with our talking. In a few minutes taps were sounded on the bugle, but not knowing that from any other sound, we kept on talking and laughing. Pretty soon a man poked his head above the stairway and yelled: “Pike down, you hay shakers!” From that day until this we have all known what taps meant.
The next thing we knew we were aroused by an unusual noise and in a few minutes we were ordered out for muster to see that no one was lost in slumberland during the night. Next came breakfast, after which we were marched to the doctor’s office and there stood a more rigid examination than before. Here we were vaccinated and inoculated for typhoid fever and small pox. Next we were given one hammock and a bag that looked to be a two bushel grain bag, but later found it to be our trunk.
We were then marched to the supply house and given our clothing and shoes, after which we were shown how to pack our trunk or sack in true sailor style. Then we were assigned to our bungalow, each bungalow accommodating eight men and shown how to swing our hammocks and then we all sat around telling stories, and what we thought of the place or our new home, until about nine o’clock when we proceeded to roll in. We rolled out pretty soon—some of us for it requires about as much skill to ride one of those hammocks as it does to stay on the hurricane deck of a western broncho. Most every morning some one would come out with a black eye or a “hickey” on his head that you couldn’t hold an umbrella over. Some of the boys would laugh at him and ask him what was the cause of the accident. He would say his hammock threw him last night. At this time I am proud to say we have all gotten to be pretty good hammock riders.
The next move was to take our first lesson the drill ground as the boys call it the “grinder.” We were drilled about seven hours each day for twenty-eight days, so one day the good news came that we were going to be shipped to Charleston, S. C. Then our hearts leaped for joy because we thought there wouldn’t be any grinder there, and sure enough there wasn’t.
We have been here about 35 days having a good time, getting plenty to eat and working four or five hours a week. All the boys are having a nice time going to church and entertainments up town for we are allowed liberty every other afternoon and night.
I am glad to say the people of Charleston are awfully nice to the soldiers and sailors.
With best wishes to all my friends and especially those who are going to the navy and army and hoping to see you all after the war is brought to a successful finish. I am, Your friend,
Frank E. Fowler.
U. S. Naval Training Station,
care Co. 9, Sec. 3, Reg. 4, Charleston, S. C.
NOTES: Frank Elmer Fowler was born on August 11, 1894 in Jacksonport, Arkansas and died in Freeport, Texas on November 26, 1967. At the time of his registration he was a mechanic in Melbourne, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS