TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT DECEMBER 25, 1918 P. 18
Well, today is the day designated over here as the day on which we should all write to our fathers, so I thought I would write to you. As the censorship has been raised, I will be able to tell you lots of things that I have been waiting for a long time to tell.
I will start with the morning of September 16. On that morning at 2 o’clock we got up at Camp Upton and it was not long before we were all dressed and lined up with our packs on our backs ready to go to New York City on the train. Well, we left Camp Upton about 5 o’clock and arrived in Brooklyn at about 7:30 o’clock that morning. The train ran right up to a ferry which carried us to the boat on which we sailed. On the way to the pier we got a fine view of the water-front of New York from East river. When we got on the ship, which was an English freight steamer formerly in the South sea trade, named the Mentor, we found that we had hammocks to sleep in. The hammocks were very close together and sometime you would wake up, in the night and find some one’s feet in your face.
In the morning at about 10 o’clock, September 17, the big convoy of steamships which we were one of began to form. Soon there were 14 all together, with a battleship and two destroyers to protect us. Finally they all got under way. All day the first day we were followed by two powerful seaplanes, which flew back and forth over the whole convoy. A large observation balloon, attached to a destroyer, also went ahead of the convoy for the first day. You remember at this time that submarines were busy off the Atlantic coast, and had sunk some coal barges off Boston.
Well, the whole trip was just alike. It was as tough a 12 days as I ever spent in my life. At first we didn’t know at what port we would land, but finally we heard that we were going to Glasgow, Scotland. During the whole voyage not a single submarine was seen at any time. At dark, however, the ship was very dark as no lights whatever were allowed. Smoking was strictly forbidden after dark. On the morning of September 28 we could see the north coast of Ireland. On the day before the British torpedo boats came out to meet us. There seemed to be about eight of them and they darted hither and thither around the ship in the convoy. The sea was quite rough here and the wind was biting cold, and small wonder, as we were quite a way north.
Saturday night, September 28, at about 9 o’clock, we entered the mouth of the Clyde river in Scotland. We stayed at the mouth all night and the next morning we were towed up the river by a tug. The scenery along the banks was certainly beautiful. I shall never forget it as long as I live. I could hardly realize we were in Scotland. It is along the Clyde that the greatest shipbuilding plants in the world are and we could see shipbuilding plants for miles, with the steel frames of the ships on the stocks. At this particular time, however, there was a strike of all the shipbuilders in the Clyde district, so there was no activity at all. Then it was Sunday. Well, we docked at Glasgow about 10 o’clock in the morning but were not allowed off the ship. The Britishers are stolid looking people but they seem to be well dressed. At 4 o’clock that afternoon we got off the boat and walked about 400 yards to the railroad station. The afternoon was damp and cold but a great crowd of people gathered to see us march to the depot. Here I saw an English train. They are funny looking things and are to be compared to toys beside our giant coaches and locomotives. The springs on the coaches are really not as heavy as are used on a large auto truck in the United States. But they run very fast.
The next morning at 8 o’clock we arrived at Romsey, a little town 13 miles from Southampton, way down in the south of England, so you see we made good time in our run from Glasgow. The train had about 25 coaches on it. It is necessary for the engineer to begin to stop the train a great distance way from where he wanted to bring it to a stop, there are no airbrakes on the cars, only on the engine, and if he stopped too quick the train would buckle in the middle.
We unloaded at Romsey and hiked for about two miles to a rest camp named Woodley camp. While we hiked through the little town I got a chance to see my first English village. Everything in Europe is built to stay. So it is in this little town. The houses are mostly all built of red brick and each house has a name. Every house has a pretty little flower garden out in front and the knockers on the doors and the nameplates are all polished until you can see yourself in them. Then past the little town we came upon the old houses set way back among the trees, with the curling road leading up to them. In fact, the shrubbery leading up to them was so thick that unless you went inside the fence you could not see the houses. The fence is of iron and about ten feet high. The camp was a quiet place and we had good meals there. There were 21 of us in one tent which resembled a large circle tent in shape. We got a chance to take a bath, which we all did. The next morning we packed up and left for Southampton.
We arrived in Southampton and deposited our packs in one big warehouse on the docks, but we could not go off the wharf. One of the big ships that was in the harbor here was the Olympic, the sister ship of the ill-fated Titanic. She surely is a big ship. The ship was not to leave until the afternoon for France. Before she left the 803rd negro regiment came in from Romsey, having hiked the 13 miles. I enquired about the 801st but could learn nothing about it. Well, the negro regiment had a band and they created quite a lot of laughter when they played “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now.” It is an old song, but it is to the point.
About 6 o’clock we loaded on the boat and she sailed for Le Havre, France, about 30 minutes later. The distance from Southampton is 110 miles, and we arrived there the next morning. When I came on deck we were in sight of land, France. We were served hot coffee, which certainly was good. Well, we docked shortly there afterward and we unloaded. Then another hike to a rest camp. It was about a three-mile hike and we got mighty tired.
We were here until October 5. It was at this place we heard Bulgaria had surrendered, and I began to feel the length of the war was only a question of a few weeks. We really didn’t know where we were going, and the word was around that we were on our way to Italy. On October 5 we left Le Havre. We loaded on box cars here and left about 3 o’5clock for where, we didn’t know. This was my first experience of riding in box cars. It was mighty rough traveling and a man will lose all religion he ever had before he spent many hours in one of them. I managed to sleep about three hours between the time we left and daylight and when I woke up we were in Rouen. The scenery in France is beautiful, and I will never forget it. At 7:30 o’clock on the evening of October 5 we arrived at Le Mans, quite a large city southwest of Paris, in the department of Sarthe. We were here about five days and while here we had long drills in the use of gas masks. At this place we walked into totwn to get a bath, a round-trip distance of about eight miles. With oru sore feet it was pretty hard, but the bath was worth the walk. We left Le Mans on October 10 for La Rochelle and arrived here about 10 o’clock on the night of the 11th.
NOTES: Arthur Jackson Jones was writing to his father, Arthur C Jones. He was a reporter for the Arkansas Democrat before entering the service. He was born on March 31, 1897 in Little Rock, Arkansas and died on September 30, 1963. He is buried in the Roselawn Memorial Cemetery in Little Rock.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Well, today is the day designated over here as the day on which we should all write to our fathers, so I thought I would write to you. As the censorship has been raised, I will be able to tell you lots of things that I have been waiting for a long time to tell.
I will start with the morning of September 16. On that morning at 2 o’clock we got up at Camp Upton and it was not long before we were all dressed and lined up with our packs on our backs ready to go to New York City on the train. Well, we left Camp Upton about 5 o’clock and arrived in Brooklyn at about 7:30 o’clock that morning. The train ran right up to a ferry which carried us to the boat on which we sailed. On the way to the pier we got a fine view of the water-front of New York from East river. When we got on the ship, which was an English freight steamer formerly in the South sea trade, named the Mentor, we found that we had hammocks to sleep in. The hammocks were very close together and sometime you would wake up, in the night and find some one’s feet in your face.
In the morning at about 10 o’clock, September 17, the big convoy of steamships which we were one of began to form. Soon there were 14 all together, with a battleship and two destroyers to protect us. Finally they all got under way. All day the first day we were followed by two powerful seaplanes, which flew back and forth over the whole convoy. A large observation balloon, attached to a destroyer, also went ahead of the convoy for the first day. You remember at this time that submarines were busy off the Atlantic coast, and had sunk some coal barges off Boston.
Well, the whole trip was just alike. It was as tough a 12 days as I ever spent in my life. At first we didn’t know at what port we would land, but finally we heard that we were going to Glasgow, Scotland. During the whole voyage not a single submarine was seen at any time. At dark, however, the ship was very dark as no lights whatever were allowed. Smoking was strictly forbidden after dark. On the morning of September 28 we could see the north coast of Ireland. On the day before the British torpedo boats came out to meet us. There seemed to be about eight of them and they darted hither and thither around the ship in the convoy. The sea was quite rough here and the wind was biting cold, and small wonder, as we were quite a way north.
Saturday night, September 28, at about 9 o’clock, we entered the mouth of the Clyde river in Scotland. We stayed at the mouth all night and the next morning we were towed up the river by a tug. The scenery along the banks was certainly beautiful. I shall never forget it as long as I live. I could hardly realize we were in Scotland. It is along the Clyde that the greatest shipbuilding plants in the world are and we could see shipbuilding plants for miles, with the steel frames of the ships on the stocks. At this particular time, however, there was a strike of all the shipbuilders in the Clyde district, so there was no activity at all. Then it was Sunday. Well, we docked at Glasgow about 10 o’clock in the morning but were not allowed off the ship. The Britishers are stolid looking people but they seem to be well dressed. At 4 o’clock that afternoon we got off the boat and walked about 400 yards to the railroad station. The afternoon was damp and cold but a great crowd of people gathered to see us march to the depot. Here I saw an English train. They are funny looking things and are to be compared to toys beside our giant coaches and locomotives. The springs on the coaches are really not as heavy as are used on a large auto truck in the United States. But they run very fast.
The next morning at 8 o’clock we arrived at Romsey, a little town 13 miles from Southampton, way down in the south of England, so you see we made good time in our run from Glasgow. The train had about 25 coaches on it. It is necessary for the engineer to begin to stop the train a great distance way from where he wanted to bring it to a stop, there are no airbrakes on the cars, only on the engine, and if he stopped too quick the train would buckle in the middle.
We unloaded at Romsey and hiked for about two miles to a rest camp named Woodley camp. While we hiked through the little town I got a chance to see my first English village. Everything in Europe is built to stay. So it is in this little town. The houses are mostly all built of red brick and each house has a name. Every house has a pretty little flower garden out in front and the knockers on the doors and the nameplates are all polished until you can see yourself in them. Then past the little town we came upon the old houses set way back among the trees, with the curling road leading up to them. In fact, the shrubbery leading up to them was so thick that unless you went inside the fence you could not see the houses. The fence is of iron and about ten feet high. The camp was a quiet place and we had good meals there. There were 21 of us in one tent which resembled a large circle tent in shape. We got a chance to take a bath, which we all did. The next morning we packed up and left for Southampton.
We arrived in Southampton and deposited our packs in one big warehouse on the docks, but we could not go off the wharf. One of the big ships that was in the harbor here was the Olympic, the sister ship of the ill-fated Titanic. She surely is a big ship. The ship was not to leave until the afternoon for France. Before she left the 803rd negro regiment came in from Romsey, having hiked the 13 miles. I enquired about the 801st but could learn nothing about it. Well, the negro regiment had a band and they created quite a lot of laughter when they played “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now.” It is an old song, but it is to the point.
About 6 o’clock we loaded on the boat and she sailed for Le Havre, France, about 30 minutes later. The distance from Southampton is 110 miles, and we arrived there the next morning. When I came on deck we were in sight of land, France. We were served hot coffee, which certainly was good. Well, we docked shortly there afterward and we unloaded. Then another hike to a rest camp. It was about a three-mile hike and we got mighty tired.
We were here until October 5. It was at this place we heard Bulgaria had surrendered, and I began to feel the length of the war was only a question of a few weeks. We really didn’t know where we were going, and the word was around that we were on our way to Italy. On October 5 we left Le Havre. We loaded on box cars here and left about 3 o’5clock for where, we didn’t know. This was my first experience of riding in box cars. It was mighty rough traveling and a man will lose all religion he ever had before he spent many hours in one of them. I managed to sleep about three hours between the time we left and daylight and when I woke up we were in Rouen. The scenery in France is beautiful, and I will never forget it. At 7:30 o’clock on the evening of October 5 we arrived at Le Mans, quite a large city southwest of Paris, in the department of Sarthe. We were here about five days and while here we had long drills in the use of gas masks. At this place we walked into totwn to get a bath, a round-trip distance of about eight miles. With oru sore feet it was pretty hard, but the bath was worth the walk. We left Le Mans on October 10 for La Rochelle and arrived here about 10 o’clock on the night of the 11th.
NOTES: Arthur Jackson Jones was writing to his father, Arthur C Jones. He was a reporter for the Arkansas Democrat before entering the service. He was born on March 31, 1897 in Little Rock, Arkansas and died on September 30, 1963. He is buried in the Roselawn Memorial Cemetery in Little Rock.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT