TRANSCRIBED FROM THE PRESCOTT DAILY NEWS SEPTEMBER 12, 1918 P. 3
Camp Pike, Ark., Sept. 3, 1918.
Dear Jack:
As I have a few leisure moments tonight, will try and do as I promised you some several months ago, when i left our dear little town in search of "Kaiser Bill."
Well, to begin at the beginning, I arrived in this place on the night of April 1st, 1918, accompanied by many rookies on the same errand. After answering many questions at the receiving station, we were finally marched to our new home, where my rent and board bill was paid in advance.
When our train began unloading it reminded me of the days when I used to work for stock men, back home and watched the cattle, horses, and mules come down the "chute." In place of finding mounted cow punchers awaiting to unload us, we found what they call corporals and sergeants instead. They did not have horses, whips or ropes, but had six shooters and clubs instead, also a very mean gleam in their eyes. Later we nicknamed them "Pig-Iron," the hard-boiled guys.
I had already been baked myself so was not in the least afraid of the mean guys, on my arrival in Camp. Well, with your permission I will tell you a few pleasures of a soldier's life. First, he has nothing to do but eat, sleep and work (work mostly.) He works twenty-four hours a day, during the week and thirty-six on Sunday. Then he is allowed to go up town, and enjoy life the remainder of the day, provided he can get permission from the commanding officer, and can find the price of a jitney, which is sometimes a hard proposition. Now we will discuss the good eats served in a tin pan, which is unbreakable. For breakfast he has----; yes, he has beans. For dinner he has potatoes, and more beans. For supper he has potatoes and beans. Special dinner on Sunday consists of beef, potatoes and then beans for desert.
After the days work is completed this weary soldier climbs the stairs and finds his bed. This bed is made from straw, which the stock refuses to eat. In this way the soldier finds a place to rest his weary bones, for a few short hours. When he is resting on his straw bed, and dreaming of the days of long ago, the blooming bugles blow, and time for work begins. Honest, if I should ever marry, my children would never be allowed to blow a horn around the house, or would I allow beans or potatoes to be placed on my table.
Well, after all I have said, it is a good place for some boys--take myself for example. Labor day afternoon we attended a broncho busting and big ball game. You know this is my kind of sport.
First will say that I met one of my old friends. Mr. Shaw from Prescott. Of course this made me feel good. Next, I am sorry to say, I did not arrive in time to enter the riding contest. There were boys from New Mexico, Arizona and Arkansas, doing the fancy riding. They had several outlaw horses, which kept the boys busy trying to ride them. However I know none of their names, as they were all strangers to me, except Curley Long from 101 Ranch. But best of all, I can say that out of seven head of horses, there was only one successful ride, which was won by an Arkansas boy. My friend and Shaw wanted to bet $50.00 that he had a man who could ride any horse on the ground for $10.00 note. This rider's name I will not mention, as it would serve no special purpose. So you can guess for yourself just who this rider was. After we returned from the horse exhibition, we had supper (beans), then went to a social at Co. A, where we spread lots of joy until 11 p.m. I guess there were at least 200 couple present, and we were well served with plenty of good eats, and fine music, but the girls were all boys, I am sorry to say. Nevertheless, we had a real swell time talking of our friends back home, and the pleasures we sure had with them.
So after all is said you see a soldier's life isn't so bad in Camp Pike. As it is real late and we get up real early, guess I will have to close with this clothes-line until another wash day. So remember your old friend with a long letter, and give the old bunch my best regards, as this is all I can give them at present.
Your friend,
E. E. Horne.
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Camp Pike, Ark., Sept. 3, 1918.
Dear Jack:
As I have a few leisure moments tonight, will try and do as I promised you some several months ago, when i left our dear little town in search of "Kaiser Bill."
Well, to begin at the beginning, I arrived in this place on the night of April 1st, 1918, accompanied by many rookies on the same errand. After answering many questions at the receiving station, we were finally marched to our new home, where my rent and board bill was paid in advance.
When our train began unloading it reminded me of the days when I used to work for stock men, back home and watched the cattle, horses, and mules come down the "chute." In place of finding mounted cow punchers awaiting to unload us, we found what they call corporals and sergeants instead. They did not have horses, whips or ropes, but had six shooters and clubs instead, also a very mean gleam in their eyes. Later we nicknamed them "Pig-Iron," the hard-boiled guys.
I had already been baked myself so was not in the least afraid of the mean guys, on my arrival in Camp. Well, with your permission I will tell you a few pleasures of a soldier's life. First, he has nothing to do but eat, sleep and work (work mostly.) He works twenty-four hours a day, during the week and thirty-six on Sunday. Then he is allowed to go up town, and enjoy life the remainder of the day, provided he can get permission from the commanding officer, and can find the price of a jitney, which is sometimes a hard proposition. Now we will discuss the good eats served in a tin pan, which is unbreakable. For breakfast he has----; yes, he has beans. For dinner he has potatoes, and more beans. For supper he has potatoes and beans. Special dinner on Sunday consists of beef, potatoes and then beans for desert.
After the days work is completed this weary soldier climbs the stairs and finds his bed. This bed is made from straw, which the stock refuses to eat. In this way the soldier finds a place to rest his weary bones, for a few short hours. When he is resting on his straw bed, and dreaming of the days of long ago, the blooming bugles blow, and time for work begins. Honest, if I should ever marry, my children would never be allowed to blow a horn around the house, or would I allow beans or potatoes to be placed on my table.
Well, after all I have said, it is a good place for some boys--take myself for example. Labor day afternoon we attended a broncho busting and big ball game. You know this is my kind of sport.
First will say that I met one of my old friends. Mr. Shaw from Prescott. Of course this made me feel good. Next, I am sorry to say, I did not arrive in time to enter the riding contest. There were boys from New Mexico, Arizona and Arkansas, doing the fancy riding. They had several outlaw horses, which kept the boys busy trying to ride them. However I know none of their names, as they were all strangers to me, except Curley Long from 101 Ranch. But best of all, I can say that out of seven head of horses, there was only one successful ride, which was won by an Arkansas boy. My friend and Shaw wanted to bet $50.00 that he had a man who could ride any horse on the ground for $10.00 note. This rider's name I will not mention, as it would serve no special purpose. So you can guess for yourself just who this rider was. After we returned from the horse exhibition, we had supper (beans), then went to a social at Co. A, where we spread lots of joy until 11 p.m. I guess there were at least 200 couple present, and we were well served with plenty of good eats, and fine music, but the girls were all boys, I am sorry to say. Nevertheless, we had a real swell time talking of our friends back home, and the pleasures we sure had with them.
So after all is said you see a soldier's life isn't so bad in Camp Pike. As it is real late and we get up real early, guess I will have to close with this clothes-line until another wash day. So remember your old friend with a long letter, and give the old bunch my best regards, as this is all I can give them at present.
Your friend,
E. E. Horne.
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD