TRANSCRIBED FROM THE NEWPORT DAILY INDEPENDENT JANUARY 26, 1918 P. 2
Camp Beauregard, La., January 14, 1918.
Dear Mother:
Will answer your letter tonight, finding me well and feeling fine. We are under quarantine I think for 30 days, on account of meningitis. The 136th infantry has the largest number of cases; the 154th hasn't any cases at present. It's against orders for any man in another company to get closer than 15 feet to men in other companies. I heard through the major today the154th infantry might get to go to New Orleans for guard duty, and I understand that is much more work than doing guard duty here, as it will be on the river bank, but no one knows what we will do.
I thought I had a spy one night not long ago, when I was on guard. He had on civilian's clothes and was a suspicious looking character. But he was not a spy, but the commander of the guard complimented me for my work. From what I can learn I will be promoted to sargeant soon. Albert Bevans got his promotion and I think he leaves this week for Texas. Albert and several others were quarantined for 15 days. I was on the rifle range Saturday. Two corporals, two sargeants and one of our lieutenants were overe there. I did very well for the first time. I didn't beat but one fellow and he was one of the sargeants. I can do better next time. It sounded like a battle over there on the range.
I am sending you some kodak pictures. That is our pastime on Sunday. I wrote Charles today. How I wish he would stay home for he would be such a pleasure to you and daddy, for I know how lonesome you are. When I think of little Morris, I can see his sweet, smiling face. I get so blue I don't have any sense. It breaks my heart. I can't realize he's gone. Mother have you put his playthings away, and his little chair? I hope you find a little orphan while you are in the city. But I'm coming home some day. I like it better all the time. Army life agrees with me, my health being fine. I got my socks and stamps and thread and I sure was glad to get them, for we can't go to town only on special business--that's how the meningitis was scatered. We had to pass a house that and some cases and some of the soldiers took it, so now they are very strict. I have been mending my clothes since I got the thread. How I used to say, "Mother mend this, or sew on buttons," but I know how and what a pleasure it is to me to know I had a mother who taught me to do such things.
It has been cold down here--been sleeting and snowing. Glad to get the stamps. We can't go to the post office unless we put our name on the list early in the morning, and sometimes I fail to get my name down. We are not supposed to leave our company streets while we are under quarantine.
Your son and "Uncle Sam's,"
John B. Jamison.
NOTES: This letter was written by John Benjamin Jameson to his mother Mary Katherine Jamison. He was born on June 20, 1896 and died on August 16, 1936. He is buried in the Walnut Grove Cemetery in Newport, Arkansas. He enlisted on May 12, 1917 and was discharged on December 11, 1918. He was writing from Camp Beauregard, Louisiana.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Camp Beauregard, La., January 14, 1918.
Dear Mother:
Will answer your letter tonight, finding me well and feeling fine. We are under quarantine I think for 30 days, on account of meningitis. The 136th infantry has the largest number of cases; the 154th hasn't any cases at present. It's against orders for any man in another company to get closer than 15 feet to men in other companies. I heard through the major today the154th infantry might get to go to New Orleans for guard duty, and I understand that is much more work than doing guard duty here, as it will be on the river bank, but no one knows what we will do.
I thought I had a spy one night not long ago, when I was on guard. He had on civilian's clothes and was a suspicious looking character. But he was not a spy, but the commander of the guard complimented me for my work. From what I can learn I will be promoted to sargeant soon. Albert Bevans got his promotion and I think he leaves this week for Texas. Albert and several others were quarantined for 15 days. I was on the rifle range Saturday. Two corporals, two sargeants and one of our lieutenants were overe there. I did very well for the first time. I didn't beat but one fellow and he was one of the sargeants. I can do better next time. It sounded like a battle over there on the range.
I am sending you some kodak pictures. That is our pastime on Sunday. I wrote Charles today. How I wish he would stay home for he would be such a pleasure to you and daddy, for I know how lonesome you are. When I think of little Morris, I can see his sweet, smiling face. I get so blue I don't have any sense. It breaks my heart. I can't realize he's gone. Mother have you put his playthings away, and his little chair? I hope you find a little orphan while you are in the city. But I'm coming home some day. I like it better all the time. Army life agrees with me, my health being fine. I got my socks and stamps and thread and I sure was glad to get them, for we can't go to town only on special business--that's how the meningitis was scatered. We had to pass a house that and some cases and some of the soldiers took it, so now they are very strict. I have been mending my clothes since I got the thread. How I used to say, "Mother mend this, or sew on buttons," but I know how and what a pleasure it is to me to know I had a mother who taught me to do such things.
It has been cold down here--been sleeting and snowing. Glad to get the stamps. We can't go to the post office unless we put our name on the list early in the morning, and sometimes I fail to get my name down. We are not supposed to leave our company streets while we are under quarantine.
Your son and "Uncle Sam's,"
John B. Jamison.
NOTES: This letter was written by John Benjamin Jameson to his mother Mary Katherine Jamison. He was born on June 20, 1896 and died on August 16, 1936. He is buried in the Walnut Grove Cemetery in Newport, Arkansas. He enlisted on May 12, 1917 and was discharged on December 11, 1918. He was writing from Camp Beauregard, Louisiana.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD